As I held fondly to Liv and Steph's arms, pulled our heads together and said "Eynesbury Rocks", hundreds of camera, continously flashing, were directed towards us. The photographer asked us all to wave our hands in the air for the last shoot. For our dear teachers. For our "hip to hip" classmates. For two years of unbelievably meaningful, exciting and meaningful years. Goodbye to you all, the class of 2008.
To be honest, I'm feeling so ambivalent at the moment about having graduated from Eynesbury. THere is a side of me being so excited about having finally reached the end of a long, and perhaps, demanding journey. We worked our best, we had fun, we grew up, we learnt what is even beyond the edge of textbooks, we studied and challenged ourself. Should there be some degree of pride, it would also be reasonable. Meanwhile, another side of me tells me all about the eagerness of a long-due holiday and even further away, about stepping through a new door to go to tertiary education. But along all these positive feeling, it's undeniably true that I'm overwhelmed in an unexplainable sadness. Perhaps, it would not be entirely correct to not name "sadness" a positive feeling though.
THe better time we had together, the more we're gonna miss that time when summer comes. And when the feeling of missing, regretting mounts up, it brings "sadness" into the picture. Many memories flash back and forth in my mind. My Politics class and the very first time I stood up in front of people to do debate. My firstoral presentation and completely ruined my time-frame for the speech. My last oral presentation in Economics about Economic Development in Vietnam which I spent so much time to prepare for it. Exams and all the frustration. Library and our hard-to-deal-with-Maths Projects. Rehearsal of our graduation performance. Lunches that we had together in the lush green grass in Victoria Square. Times when I, Jax and Anita ran to China Town after our Legal class for lunch. Conversation about music, about our love and our passion to instrumental music. Talks about food. Joint-plan for the pyjama party at Steph's for the long weekend. Quick runs to Coles for chocolate bars. A drop-in chat with teachers about the subjects, about your homesick issues, about George Orwell, about newspapers, about movies
The end of one story is the beginning of another. Yet, the ended story of mine in Eynesbury shall be mentioned in the next chapter of my story, as it has helped shaped characters in my story.