i am employing a political technique that the white house always uses. releasing several important announcements at once so that neither of them receives too much spotlight.
when the word is “last” is added as a qualifier, even menial things assume much greater importance
with the associated word, there is an urge to assign greater meaning, greater memories, greater associations.
in my senior year, my “last” year, I’ve already heard people start to overuse the word.
the last is expected to be the finale, the most exciting, most memorable. But experience tells me that trying too hard to assign meaning makes everything worse.
my “last” exp week looms ahead. and what will be of it? will it live up to the high expectations that i can’t deny of harboring?
“LOST -season 17”
Have i become lost?
This year has been quite a transition for our school. The last of OSSD students have graduated. Those that remain are to undergo the wrath of IB. different clubs have sprung up, attitudes have changed, equilibrium has been disrupted.
Even interact has been affected by the uprising of other clubs. Everyone is too busy to care and I’m here helpless with my hands tied around my back.
Leaving early from Scouts today, I thought back to last year. At least, I had a purpose in going to Scouts, to fulfill my duty but what has become of my duty now. i can choose to go or not. my position is on the verge of being redundant. it used to be that everyone had their fixed position but now i feel like i’ve lost mine. Now, it’s almost as if my only definable position is that of a worker, only required by my work to finish it.
last year, i was certain that this year would be better because i was more experienced, more mature, more capable. yet, i may have to eat my words.
fictional piece inspired by 500 days of summer
“there it was, her hand. it was day 499, it was now or never. this was not the first time this situation had happened. it had happened on day 156, day 273, day 380. each time it happened, we still remained to be friends afterwards.
she was asleep or she simply appeared to be. technically, we were in two separate seats but we had already joined by the shoulder. her head was on my shoulder. i moved my hand, above hers, around hers, beside hers, never for once touching it. it floated in mid-air. i hesitated because i didn’t know what i was doing, whether it was right or wrong.
i made my move. my five fingers started moving, reaching into her palm, wanting to lock around her five fingers. at that same moment, i froze. images of the past three similar situations repeated themselves simultaneously in my head. i had been in the same situation three times yet the result was always friendship because i had always failed in the scenario after the hand holding. i was brave enough to muster the courage to do the action but not enough to mutter the words.
i released my fingers and wrapped my whole hand around hers. i held it tightly, trying to make her fist smaller but the message was clear both for her and for me. this was the most we would go. i would protect her like a guardian angel, like paper wrapping stone, surrounding her, protecting her. then, i released my grip, patted her arm and sat straight again.
i made a different choice this time but i have yet to realize whether it was the right one, despite it being a different one.”
“again… yet again”
it seems to be a curse that happens everytime.
i have experienced it enough times to realize that i shoudln’t rush into it and give it a few weeks to sort it out in my head, when the emotions die down and the memories fade.
do i? maybe i do? maybe i am ready to take up those responsibilities. the time commitment seems impossible. but haven’t i been dragging on for too long? aren’t i in need of something life-changing?