Just finished my last final exam today.
It was Drama, and I did barely satisfactory. We were given two hours, but I finished in 40 minutes, and left the classroom early. As I walked out of the AV Center, it was only 10:20 am. I thought I could might as well buy myself lunch before heading back to the dorm.
I chose the 7-11 next to Burger King in the campus. It's on the second floor, and I had to ride all the way from Penny Lane to Fan Palm Road before ascending those stairs. On my way, morning shined but not too warmly. It is unusual of me to be riding "home" at this time, since classes are usually not dismissed until noon, and yet today I took off early.
Just beneath the warmth of an early summer campus atmosphere, it suddenly stroke me that not only did my class wind up earlier than expected, but it was also the last class of my entire college life. So there it was. My college life was over. The end of an era anticipated.
From now on, I'd not be driving anywhere in rush for class, for handing in a report, or being late for a group meeting. From now on, my bike will simply serve as a tool of entertainment, instead of my campus partner. So everything was there. As I ascended the stairs, I was about to grab my very last college lunch. The 7-11 in campus offers discounts that are found nowhere outside campus. Many of my classmates are still in their final exam. Luckily for them, their college life is not over yet. And mine has ended. Right there. On the stairs leading to a convenience store.
I didn't think of missing campus, or missing student life. I was simply overwhelmed by a neat sense of nostalgia. During college, no matter how lost I was, in the long term, I was always heading somewhere. Whether it's trivial such as catching up with some class or as serious as getting by a semester of infinite projects to be done, or even passing the time of an entire long summer vacation, wanderingly waiting for the new semester to arrive and become one year more senior. Always, I was heading somewhere, some spot or stop in a planned college blueprint. The process of doing college was itself secluded by the idea of entering school and graduating it, and I was always somewhere in between.
But now I've pretty much reached the destination, which is graduation. I didn't even care to attend my own graduation ceremony a couple of weeks ago because I thought it would be diffusive and boring. However, I don't regret that. Maybe it's my coldness that is striking me. The fact that, not like in middle school, nobody put up that big miserable scene where everybody cries and laments over leaving each other and the school. Nobody put that up for me, I didn't put anything like that for me, and the one ceremony where I could've had a chance to do that, I chose not to attend it, because I simply didn't feel like I would be emotional there.
My bonds to this school does not lie on that ceremony, and anything concerning me and the school could not be revealed in an occasion like that. I was not close to my classmates, or to say they were not close to me, and nobody ever cared to be too close to me. So, my memories and sentiments do not lie in that ceremony. My affection and reminiscences are wild spread over the whole campus. In every little corner, every edifice, every little detail that consists this secluded little isle.
I could draw all the incidents that ever happened in each corner of the campus. Knowing I'll never be back, I wonder how I got by these whole four years. Did I make friends? Did I make real close friends? Do I have friends who care about me? Did I learn much? Did I appreciate literature in a manner that as I age, I'll look back to it as the sweetest love affair with words? Did I lead a normal, average, should-be college life like any other college student? Did I, or did I not? What have I accomplished, learned, taken, or better -- given -- during these four years?
The trip from 7-11 back to dorm was short. Mere minutes. Some ten, fifteen people passed by me as I rode silently. Will somebody, or something, ever miss me? Do I dare come back in 10, 20 years to face my own reminiscences and evaluate myself as who I once were?
The journey was so silent. Maybe none of the passers-by laid eyes on me. And that is how my college life comes to an end. Silently, unnoticed, and sinking.