"I Totally Lesbian Love All PL3-ers, especially Foo"
- X

*slaps on forehead

[[ mood ]] happy

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I sense that few could rest the night before without having thought of what had happened in the day. After all, it has been a long, long way from where we first started. To look back is to remind us of all the little falls and little climbs that we have had, both together and alone. Yet, to not look back seems to me to be a most deliberate attempt to forget the moments some call 'sheer genius.' With great poetry, I could probably detail the long race now that we are in our final 10 meters. Yet, the race wasn't about great poetry. It was rather the collected moments of muddled falls and disordered tumbles that happened all too fast in all too good a spirit. PL 3, in spite of what we are, just isn't for good poetry to describe.

There is no need to describe in detail the events in the last 18 months. It really isn't all that interesting unless of course, you're a part of it all. I little thought it would be this poignant when you come towards the end of a long, long race. For one moment, you'd just stop to look back and begin to wonder if you should race on. We are made to look forward. Why else did God not give us eyes on the back of our heads? It is easy, in the good times to over look the rough patches on the path. You forget them. But it is the rough patches that build you. That is perhaps why you pick yourself up and continue every single time you fall.

Your firsts are always interesting - the first time you walk into a room full of people you've never met and unsure if you'll ever get to know; the first time you were told you're not good enough; the first time you acted in a public area; the first time you read middle English; the first time you eat a cake with your lecturer. They are overwhelming. Then there are your lasts; the last 'general lecture' you'll hear; the last photos you'll take; the last essay you'll ever write; the last time you'll ever touch Chaucer; the last time you'll all have lunch together; the last goodbyes. They are even more overwhelming.

Life is brief, I'd concluded. But, briefer are the moments we truly live. And, in the last 18 months or so, to say I have truly lived every moment of it would be an exaggerated hyperbolic statement to conceal the harder times. I have lived. These moments that I have lived, I thank those who have been a part of it. These moments, moments of 'sheer genius' - Time cannot and will not erase. It is a bold statement, I believe. Ten or twenty years down the line I might see in the malls or on the streets the same people I claim to have appreciated in the last 16 months and I might not remember who they are. But for what it is worth, I think I can safely say I have enough expressions of love and moments captured by multiple cameras to remind me.

I'd like to think that these moments have come and they will go. Good times don't last. They are not meant to last. Just like how there is spring, there is always, always winter. And so, just as I could look back at what we have had together, as a class, smile and say 'It has been great while it lasted' (like I meant it every time I wrote that in your yearbook), I could look forward and see what it has to ofer. And as Shakespeare puts it 'Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing.' I offer only my sincerest expressions of gratitute to all my classmates and to one lecturer who made us realise what we are all about.

"If I start looking behind me,
And begin retracing my tracks,
I'll remind you to remind me,
We said we wouldn't look back."


And for all this is worth, I probably do lesbian love all PL 3 - ers. It really has been great while it lasted. The best is yet to come.

[[ music ]] Colplay - Yellow
[[ mood ]] contemplative

3 comments

If an ant screams every time you crush it, would you still crush it?

[[ mood ]] random

4 comments