Seeing my friends up there on the stage made me happily hollow.
It was both emotionally draining and satisfying. I was happy for them, so much that I unintentionally gave away more than half of my energy reserved for the day. I became so happy that I emptied myself of the feeling. It was like seeing my happiness sever completely from me, and become the dancing sparkles in the eyes of my friends, like famous actors from another shore, so very entertaining and beyond my reach.
Maybe I should be sadder than this, or maybe I shouldn’t have attended the event, because at the end of the day, after all the hugs and kisses and commemorative photos, I found myself walking alone the road I always tread after class. Not a single backward glance, a call, or a ‘thank you for coming’ text, from the closest people that I just gave most of my happiness to. Like it was just another day, just another event to attend, and it was indeed as hundreds of more schools conducted their commencement exercises that very same day.
But I was not. Yes, I was exhausted, numb, and hollow, but I was still happy. Like being void, but none of the heaviness and depression. I felt strangely light and satisfied from becoming empty. Like the swaying wind, I was a happy nothing.
I guess that only reminded me that in the longest run of our lives, you’ll be the only one crossing the finish line. Friends and family may be cheering you on by the sidelines, but they couldn’t run with you, couldn’t take your place instead; couldn’t feel what it’s like to run your race.
Well, yeah, maybe I should be more bitter and sour than what I am now, but what can being bitter and sour really do to you in a race? I wasn’t the kind to take such a serious event seriously, and sometimes vice versa. I always tend to look for the goodest meaning of everything, and even if it’s just plain absurd, it still means something. My friends can attest to that.
God must be telling me something, but all I can hear are the echoes of His distant voice, and not a single word registers in my ears. And that’s okay for me. I’ll hum my own tune as I go, and just knowing that He’s there, and all the people that shoved themselves in to fill my vacuous life, all the people that took a part of myself in a positive or negative way, the first or last time, I know everything’s going to be all right.
Alone or with everyone, a step is still a step. And I can honestly tell that I feel all in the world is right and good. 🙂
Book of Everyday Belligerence 