Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes.
It is a never-ending cycle.
It is a general truth.
It is not just my opinion.
“We have all been through it. The long hard weeks of unrelenting study, sometimes through entire nights, boosted by the false power of caffeine. An endless punishing, soul sapping pace.”
-Freddie Chong
April 5, 2008
Saturday
It seemed like I was playing the piano. I can hear soothing sounds coming far behind the keys I press. First it was lively. Just then, it became serious. Afterwards, I just found out, that the melody of the harmonious sounds I hear was then too sad for me to understand.
It seemed like I was beating the drums. Every beat made the crowd shout with overflowing joy. Just then, silence was the only thing I hear. I kept on playing, but the solid sounds from the drum couldn’t break the silence anymore. It just couldn’t and I don’t know why.
It seemed like I was blowing the trumpet. How remarkable I played caught everyone’s attention. The tune was very playful I can’t forget it. Just then, the trumpet couldn’t produce a single sound anymore. I blew it as hard as I can. Still, there was no sound coming out and I still don’t know why.
It seemed like I was playing the flute. The peaceful and pleasant piece I played reminded me of something I would never forget. Just then, the flute broke into smithereens and I don’t want to know why.
It seemed like I was playing the violin. How passionate I played it made time stood still. But then, I stroke the string too hard. It messed up the piece I’m playing. I just don’t get it. I am always messing things up.
It seemed like I was singing a song. Everyone listened. And then, they sang along with me. Alas! I never made a single mistake or so I’ve thought. They’ve changed the words. I couldn’t keep up with them. I stopped singing.
The playing of the piano and the beating of the drum are like the good and bad times we had, everything we’ve been through. The blowing of the trumpet is like the fun and games we’ve shared and all of the laughters. After playing, we would sit down the grass and talk for a while. It is like the playing of the flute. After the games and all the talking, we would go home and do our projects and assignments in school. Well, some do. The sleepless nights are like the stroking of the violin. The singing of the song is the changes that took place, everything had changed so suddenly. Time can do almost anything.
But hey! It was just my imagination. Just like what I always say; perhaps I’m wrong, maybe I’m not.
On the night of our farewell party, shooting stars can be seen on the sky. What a pleasant sight! I can’t help but think maybe it means something. After a few days, or weeks, or months, or even years, we’ll see each other again. How would they react if they see me? I’m sure it would have been different. But I don’t mind! Things just go the way they should be. I won’t say goodbye. Until we meet again… So long!
