the fifth story...
week 5 - Beginning of the End
Packing up the table was not as easy as I had expected it to be. It was a bittersweet experience that was all too slow moving. Each piece of belonging that I picked up plunged me into a myriad of memories. I looked at the picture of smiling faces and I remembered exactly where, when and what the photograph was suppose to eternalise.
Four years of secondary school had flown past far too quickly. I could not imagine that this day had arrived. It seemed like only yesterday that I had stepped into the school alone, without a soul that knew of my existence. I had started hating school, all because I was alone.
The past few days have been filled with an excessive yet all acceptable activity of eternalising ourselves in photographs. As if we would fade away if there were no evidence to show that we had actually been here. Flashes occur randomly and regularly in different corners of the room. The excessive activity was still going strong. In fact, it was getting more excessive yet more acceptable.
My box slowly filled up with peripheral that I never thought would mean more to me than just clutter on my desk. Though I would probably throw most of the clutter over the next couple of years, the clutter on my table are now precious to me. They are the only things that remind me of where I came from, of who I am. They are the only things that will anchor me in the near future.
I looked around and saw the people in the photographs surrounding me, doing the same thing that I have been doing, packing up the memories of the past four years. I heaved a sigh that must have been a tad too loud. Some faces turned and smiled. But behind those smiles, I could see the same feelings that I have within me. I was thinking if we would ever be as close moving apart in different directions of life as we had been together as a class.
My table cleared, my box filled. I looked forward to what life might bring after the ‘O’ levels. I accepted the queasiness that came with the unknown. I do not particularly do well in unplanned situations but I do relish the excitement that it sometimes brings.
The bell rang and it signalled the end of the last day of secondary school. It was the first time I didn’t see the class rushing madly to the door. Everyone looked at each other and I knew exactly what they were thinking. The older students have always told me this and I never imagined I was thinking the exact same thing: I am going to miss school.
Packing up the table was not as easy as I had expected it to be. It was a bittersweet experience that was all too slow moving. Each piece of belonging that I picked up plunged me into a myriad of memories. I looked at the picture of smiling faces and I remembered exactly where, when and what the photograph was suppose to eternalise.
Four years of secondary school had flown past far too quickly. I could not imagine that this day had arrived. It seemed like only yesterday that I had stepped into the school alone, without a soul that knew of my existence. I had started hating school, all because I was alone.
The past few days have been filled with an excessive yet all acceptable activity of eternalising ourselves in photographs. As if we would fade away if there were no evidence to show that we had actually been here. Flashes occur randomly and regularly in different corners of the room. The excessive activity was still going strong. In fact, it was getting more excessive yet more acceptable.
My box slowly filled up with peripheral that I never thought would mean more to me than just clutter on my desk. Though I would probably throw most of the clutter over the next couple of years, the clutter on my table are now precious to me. They are the only things that remind me of where I came from, of who I am. They are the only things that will anchor me in the near future.
I looked around and saw the people in the photographs surrounding me, doing the same thing that I have been doing, packing up the memories of the past four years. I heaved a sigh that must have been a tad too loud. Some faces turned and smiled. But behind those smiles, I could see the same feelings that I have within me. I was thinking if we would ever be as close moving apart in different directions of life as we had been together as a class.
My table cleared, my box filled. I looked forward to what life might bring after the ‘O’ levels. I accepted the queasiness that came with the unknown. I do not particularly do well in unplanned situations but I do relish the excitement that it sometimes brings.
The bell rang and it signalled the end of the last day of secondary school. It was the first time I didn’t see the class rushing madly to the door. Everyone looked at each other and I knew exactly what they were thinking. The older students have always told me this and I never imagined I was thinking the exact same thing: I am going to miss school.
Labels: written in prose
posted by alvin_c at 8:21 pm
1 Comments:
well written! :) i totally identify
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