It is almost as if I have been fighting too hard for my future that I forgot to look back and trace the footprints in the sand that led me to where I am today. An ontological consideration for the coming of the existence of the me today. These same footsteps tell the tale of a journey riddled with sadness, uncertainty, cheer and exhilaration. Through the years I have both gone fast-sprinting into the setting sun and gone slow, unwillingly dragging my feet through the sand, but I never have, for one moment in my life, stopped walking. For that, I have no regret.
Glancing out at the receding wave I feel a sense of attraction to the ocean. It seems to conjure up something in the pits of my heart. An ache precipitates past the internal layers of usual nonchalance and complacency, and attacks right at the edge of my heart, hurting me where it hurts most.
This feeling of great loss, albeit not literal, has great impetus. The impetus that toys with me-forcing me toward the many crashing waves in the sea. I step forward to chase it, but in a sudden moment of clear-headedness, stop myself. The waves crash back in, provoking me to take a step back, and it is then that I see the scenery is not one of great loss, but one of precious memories. It is only now that I understand why we can’t keep chasing every receding wave.
My dear friends shine off the silver coating of the sea, illuminated by light rays valiantly stampeding across the terrain. The light rays bounce off gracefully into the air, lingering just enough to invoke a bubble of pensiveness that pops right after. It is beautiful.
It is beautiful for I will always look at the sea and it will always remind me of my friends; friends that have personalities so bright they burn boldly in the night, with a flame scorching of candor and amicability. The tides continue their motion of crashing and receding, and I sense of belonging washes over me as peering into my memories saturating along with the truth that is becoming ever so clear, refreshed by the cold waters of the vast ocean.
The vigor updating through my veins starts to disperse, evaporating off the surface of my skin, bringing away the chaotic sense of impulsiveness that the receding waves unknowingly evoke. I am able to relax. This is because from this distance I am able to ascertain the fact that no matter how high the wave is when is implodes onto the shore, it will never be able to touch these precious feelings that I hold too dearly to lose.
Murakami was right, you can hide memories, but you can’t erase the history that produced them.
An abstract thought appears out of nowhere. Perhaps this feeling of loss might be the greatest thing yet, however oxymoronic that may sound. Only when the sweet embrace of friendship is released do we actually understand how dear these things were.
Humans are ill-fated to be eternally chasing after lost stars, and as friends come, and as friends go, rarely do we have such a momentous moment where fate bestows us the opportunity of joyful celebration and deep reflection. When the frayed paths of many converge together through a gravitational force of vast magnitude, and these frayed paths finally sprint and converge for one last time, to rejoice in a celebration of us.
This converging point is a burst of brightness akin to a firework in a night sky, and the je ne sais quoi of this flash of light is the collision of our futures, the threads of fate intertwining into an intricate web. Graduation where our souls and personalities gather together one last time, where harmony finally triumphs discord, and the merciful hands of fate allow us to say happy goodbyes.
The result of this convergence is poignant and exudes grandeur.