Everything happens in the end. All bittersweet memories, the adrenaline pumped moments, the turning points, happen as the hour hand makes its final sweep of the circle of life. Looking back at the past moments here, I can’t seem to recall anything worthy of brain space except of the smorgasboard of welcomes during our first days in the college. And now, as the end draws near…
Everything happens in the end. What else happens in between? Prelims, midterms, projects, thesis, papers, duty. It seems that the only time we notice the people who are sitting beside us in when they stand up to leave. Stop for a while and look around you. What do you see? final requirements, final papers, final thesis, final exams, final everything. Makes you think why saying goodbye takes a lot longer than saying hello. Everything happens in the end. We make things happen in the end, because we are all afraid to be forgotten, to be dusts in the wind, so we say goodbye a little longer, a little louder. For in the end, when time has passed and all that we have left is a vague memory, a pixilated screenshot of the times long gone, the things that we’ll remember are the things that happens last. They say that first impressions last, but we’ll touch the last impressions first. Everything happens in the end. Four years is a long time, but everything happened like we have just come and gone like a dream, a dream where you could remember everything. Time flies when you’re happy; time drags when you are not. That is relativity, according to Einstein.
But just as the song goes, “every beginning is just some other beginning’s end”. After all the flush, after all the rush to make hard copies of the intangible, everything happens and come around like a sick cycle carousel. We say hello, we say goodbye, we wipe our tears dry, and we say hello to someone else after we bid goodbye…
