Year 2, twice as epic

It's the first full week of February, and we all know what that means. Purple pumps through our veins, and we wear more of one color than we ever could have imagined. An 18-year-old with perhaps an excess of testosterone walks by you, staring you down as if you were a freshman, and he wears a pink bathrobe and a bedazzled tiara, but you pass by him like a stranger on the streets. Behind him are a group of girls in yellow from literally head to toe, whispering and scheming about the walk-off.
We were let out early from class, power-walking down main street to stake our claim on the infamous bleachers, even though we already have unspoken designated spots.
Even the "new kids," who were timid, religiously following their schedules and searching desperately with doe-like eyes for matching room numbers, are donning hand prints of paint on their faces, which only gets us natives more excited.
Every student matters, even the shy kid in the back of your honors whatever class, even the girl with the hair over her eyes who you thought you'd never hear speak even the guy you suspected was high all. the. time.
We are united because we are a grade, we are united because we are sophomores we are united because we are PURPLE. Nothing gets our blood pumping quite like the phrase "you wish you were a one two," and we cheer together for the brave individuals who step up to the plate to represent a class of unity, no matter what social circle they may be in.
They are one of us, and we are one, we are two.
We are 2012, and the Mayans saved the best for last.