Sometimes, I think, wow, I'm already 19. High school has become more like a compilation of prominent memories instead of a day to day scrapbook of events. At times I catch myself trying hard to remember some moments that I once thought were so precious and won't be forgotten. The first day of school, the first time I tripped on the stairs, the first time I realized that my integrity wasn't to be compensated, the first time we said hi and smiled, the first time I realized that I'd finally adapted to my environment, the first time I realized how selfish and cruel teenagers can be, the first time I learned to let go and let be. So many firsts, yet they've all blurred into one big picture.
And the lasts. The last day of school each year, the last internal exam, the last time we said hi and smiled, the last time wearing my blue and white uniform, the last time donning my black skirt and white shirt, the last time putting on my blue tie, the last SPM paper, the last time we raced to the canteen for duties, the last time I ran around bugging people for their articles, the last time I walked into the comfortingly cool computer lab, the last time I stepped into the classroom as a current student, the last time we gathered together, smiled into the camera and said we'd meet again one day, the last time we sat on the creaky stools, leaned on the wooden tables with chips and dents, and talked about everything and nothing, the last time we rushed to the labs to check on our experiments, the last time we rushed outside the school gates to grab lunch, the last time we stepped out of the school the way we'd been for 5 years.
High school once seemed so big, so constant. It was so important, all-encompassing. That is where our lives were. But once we stepped out of it, we all found our own niches, apart from each other, separated by distance and time. We find that in between phone calls and e-mails, we try our best to relate everything to each other. But in the end, we realize that we can't possibly share every little detail of our lives anymore. Sure, we talk about all the big stuff, where we're going, what we're doing, who we're seeing, what we plan to do in the next few years. The smaller things that we used to know about each other, they remain under the surface, and we know that we can't possibly know everything now.
But we find contentment in our ability to reconnect and laugh over things that used to tickle our funny bones and things that we experience individually in the present. The topics become bigger, more serious, more important, less flighty, less haha let's think about it in two years. We look at each other and go, yeah, we are different now. Look at us, talking about apartments, living expenses, careers, families. Where did those girls who talked about the latest eye candy (who, shockingly, by now, exudes zero appeal), the latest songs, silly poses for the camera, and seemingly endless infatuation go? They pop up every now and again, but they're so much calmer now, more knowing.
In the midst of all the mind boggling things that we hadn't realized we'd face at 19, we sit for a moment in silence, ponder on what is coming, and think, wow, I am only 19. Our conversation comes to a lull as we mull over what had happened, what is happening, and what will happen. So much in the past and present, so much more to come. Dreams spawn plans. Plans spawn actions. Actions spawn results. Our minds' gears click into place and we realize the magnitude of our thoughts that have come so far from glittery lip glosses to long-term goals.
I am only 19.
And the lasts. The last day of school each year, the last internal exam, the last time we said hi and smiled, the last time wearing my blue and white uniform, the last time donning my black skirt and white shirt, the last time putting on my blue tie, the last SPM paper, the last time we raced to the canteen for duties, the last time I ran around bugging people for their articles, the last time I walked into the comfortingly cool computer lab, the last time I stepped into the classroom as a current student, the last time we gathered together, smiled into the camera and said we'd meet again one day, the last time we sat on the creaky stools, leaned on the wooden tables with chips and dents, and talked about everything and nothing, the last time we rushed to the labs to check on our experiments, the last time we rushed outside the school gates to grab lunch, the last time we stepped out of the school the way we'd been for 5 years.
High school once seemed so big, so constant. It was so important, all-encompassing. That is where our lives were. But once we stepped out of it, we all found our own niches, apart from each other, separated by distance and time. We find that in between phone calls and e-mails, we try our best to relate everything to each other. But in the end, we realize that we can't possibly share every little detail of our lives anymore. Sure, we talk about all the big stuff, where we're going, what we're doing, who we're seeing, what we plan to do in the next few years. The smaller things that we used to know about each other, they remain under the surface, and we know that we can't possibly know everything now.
But we find contentment in our ability to reconnect and laugh over things that used to tickle our funny bones and things that we experience individually in the present. The topics become bigger, more serious, more important, less flighty, less haha let's think about it in two years. We look at each other and go, yeah, we are different now. Look at us, talking about apartments, living expenses, careers, families. Where did those girls who talked about the latest eye candy (who, shockingly, by now, exudes zero appeal), the latest songs, silly poses for the camera, and seemingly endless infatuation go? They pop up every now and again, but they're so much calmer now, more knowing.
In the midst of all the mind boggling things that we hadn't realized we'd face at 19, we sit for a moment in silence, ponder on what is coming, and think, wow, I am only 19. Our conversation comes to a lull as we mull over what had happened, what is happening, and what will happen. So much in the past and present, so much more to come. Dreams spawn plans. Plans spawn actions. Actions spawn results. Our minds' gears click into place and we realize the magnitude of our thoughts that have come so far from glittery lip glosses to long-term goals.
I am only 19.
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