on graduation & uncertainty
I finished university last week.
There was always a quiet reassurance at the end of each semester - no urgency to figure out the future yet because the next semester was around the corner. A safety net, reassuring in its familiar rhythm of lectures, deadlines, and late-night study sessions.
But now, it's over.
For some reason, I thought the end would be a bit more. . .? I am not sure what it should've been. It just appeared more grand than it has actually been. Did I expect closure? A surge of pride, maybe? Instead, it has been quite anti-climatic and I kept thinking: Is this it? Am I doing this right?
But perhaps this is what some endings are like: not the triumphant music of credits rolling, but a quiet, weighty pause. It is like when the lights come back on after a movie, and no one speaks right away. There’s a residue of emotion that lingers.
There is something perplexing about spending years chasing GPA's, deadlines, internships. Then suddenly, no one’s telling you what to chase anymore. It’s just... you. This is what is terrifying me. Not failure, not unemployment. Just the sheer vastness of choice. The fact that I can no longer pretend the future is some far-off thing. It’s not. It’s here, and I don’t think I know what to do with it.
It's okay if the end doesn't feel like the end yet. Maybe that feeling will come later. Or maybe life doesn’t tie itself up with neat bows. Instead, it keeps unfolding, quietly.