My best friend Ace and I hung out almost the entire day, except for the four-and-a-half hours where I had class. We agreed that it didn't feel like the last day at all, but just another Thursday. If my planner wasn't in front of me right now--bleeding with black and red ink--, I could almost believe that I still have homework for next Tuesday. I can almost believe that I have the entire weekend to procrastinate and sleep.
My friends and classmates have taken to the end in different ways. Facebook contains a hodgepodge of status updates and posts that range from links to Vitamin C's music video for "Graduation" to a litany of curse words. Some people have admitted to crying as they type; others are heading to Cantina or Fiamma for a celebratory drink, despite the fact that we still have to get through finals next week.
If you had asked me in October, I would have told you that yes, the wait for graduation is excruciating. But now that it's on the horizon, less than 40 days away, I find that I'm scrambling for purchase on a road that's suddenly become very slick. I can't remember the last time I was able to sleep peacefully for a night, and I'm willing to bet that my friends can't either.
I attended my last novel-writing class this morning. We discussed The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, by Yukio Mishima, and its connection to Buddhism philosophy and Japanese aesthetics. D.M. Reyes, my professor, told us about a trip to Japan that he'd taken and one anecdote in particular caught my attention. His Japanese friends had insisted on taking a picture of him next to a rock, onto which was etched the quote "One day, one love."
These days, I find myself contemplating every single choice that has led me to this point. Nothing like a major life event to make one consider the weight of one's past decisions. Am I smart enough to keep my head above water? Are the principles I've adopted and believed in worth my life? What are my true passions? Do I really know who I am?
I may have hated living alone for the past ten months, but I would be the first person to admit--albeit begrudgingly--that the experience gave more than it took away. I had to face a lot of demons that my parents had shielded me from my entire life, and I had to choose what to keep and what to leave behind, with more than just material things.
In October, during the worst of my depression, I told Ace that I had to try to find at least one good thing to look forward to every day if I wanted to get by. I knew that my depression was getting worse when I couldn't even think of anything happy without it floating away as quickly as it came to mind. I'd lost the part of me that could accept a philosophy like "one day, one love."
I swore I wouldn't sink to cheesiness in this blog post, and I'm not. I'm far from being Pollyanna, trust me, and I wouldn't want to be her anyway. But if anything, the last semester's madness has shaped my disposition towards challenges like the ones I've faced over the past year. As Tumblr would say:
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