It was the graduation ceremony today. Wasn’t at all what I had expected. Then again, I don’t remember expecting anything. There were a few hundred people present there, maybe more. Half of them graduands, the other half probably proud parents. My parents weren’t there. I do not find a polytechnic diploma anything worth mentioning.
Martin was there too by the way, and even spoke as valedictorian — happy him. That was probably his highlight of a largely dull affair, in what seemed like two hours of watching dry paint get dusty.
Perhaps I should add that I wasn’t really paying attention to the speech. Half of me wanted to go home; the other half thinking I should have been the one giving that speech. I was strangely satisfied that the speech was given near the end of the ceremony, when most were restless and stopped listening eons ago.
This ceremony wasn’t a ceremony made equal. It was for the elite, those at the top, to celebrate their victories, and bask in their glory. Those below were there to make up the numbers, to lend weight to a largely insignificant event.
When you’re as conceited as I am, it’s hard to keep emotions in check, and I was upset I wasn’t the one receiving the awards and kudos.
My highlight of the day was, instead, sitting next to a beautiful girl, and behind her equally beautiful friend. They rescued my day, more or less, from being a downright downer. I have no idea who they were, or even what they’re names were, knowing only they were beautiful people.
I was literally begging myself to start a conversation with her (the girl beside me). To complain to her how boring this whole event was, what wasted time. But I didn’t, for fear that if the conversation didn’t go well, I was stuck with her for a very awkward who-knows-how-long more hours. I had a host of other excuses for not talking to her, including the “she might have a boyfriend” thought, but that was my best.
It was when a speaker, not sure who it was, perhaps Martin — said something in the vein of this graduation being a beginning as opposed to an end — that I reallised I didn’t have thoughts about a girl like I had about her since three years back. Friendships and relationships when not annulled indubitably have a very fuzzy edge to them, and you never know whether or not to proceed with new friendships/relationships.
But this time, I think I’m over her, the girl I’ve been writing about so much lately, for good. Everytime I’m in the hunt for new prey, if you’ll forgive the anology, I tend to pressurise myself into making the first move, though I never do. I did this back then, I did this just now, never doing it in-between. It’s a signal that I’ve moved on — and it feels great.