IN MY peripheral view, I could see their tassels sway from the thrill of taking family and group photos. As everyone took pride in their hard-earned medals, I stared into the expanse of blue-hooded togas. I ruminated about our individuality and the experiences that brought us closer.
The atmosphere of the pavilion felt more genuine when the ceremony concluded its tradition of chanting archaic prayers and structured scripts to be remembered by us.
I joined my friends and gave them a token of remembrance I hoped they would keep. The last thing I wanted was an echo of unfamiliarity when we pass by each other somewhere, someday.
My ironed clothes ruffled as I enwreathed myself with their embraces, the tears they shed now imprinted on my clothes.
I stood still and rummaged my eyes through the pavilion. I reminisced the memories we had during our years together—of the exuberant pleasures of learning the school chants and the despair from halted dreams and goodbyes.
I revisited the decisions I made in the past and pondered; has my judgment been too rash and obscure?
Despite my exertions to alter the outcome, this is where I am bound to be. My chest tightened when my name did not show on the screen.
But I know this paused course is not perpetual. I will soon ascend to the same stage to perform at the theater of my aspirations. F
