Terminal Point

An ordinary day turned out to be a nostalgic reminiscing of forgotten momentous piece of my life.Saturday, the day when I usually clean up the week-long piled up mess in and out the house. It is an ordinary day for a home buddy like I have always been. It is a weekly ordeal of my life as I dust every piece of cheap figurines and souvenirs – which have been the objects for collection of my ate – and begin to sound horrifying as my cough reminds me that I have Allergicrinitis and asthma.

It was a Saturday of forgotten month and year where my day got almost ruined by a moment in the past alleviating my oblivion on its entire existence. I wished I did not bother myself cleaning the inside of my bookshelf where all my precious books and an organized photo album are kept. As my ordinary custom in cleaning works, I always take a peep at any document-looking papers, which have been olden by antiquity. I open books as if I look for something, which deserves to be thrown out to unload the burden I carry whenever I look at my smutty room with heavy eyes. In the mean time, as my hands were finished going over the pages of a book, the next object, which received my remaining few seconds for the shelf was the photo album.
There seemed to be no big deal, for it was my usual stuff subject for cleaning. But, as I opened the album and gazed at my portraits – good enough for an illustration in the subject Developmental Psychology – there seemed to be something strange about my pictures during my recognition days in elementary and in college. I had not noticed this before, but it really made me laugh and teary-eyed. My mother’s dress during my recognition day in elementary was the same dress she wore in my college recognition day. Nanay really takes care of her belongings – she got no choice.
But as it runs through my experience, somber is the shadow of laugh. The next few moments were a dramatic scenario. As I looked straight in to the eyes of my portrait, it awakened my cognizance that the day important to all the others was the day I extremely abhorred. It made sparks of nerve in my mind, which had long been earthen by stupor.
I tried not to remember anything about it, but every moment was like a nightmare, which gave me vivid flashes of scene amidst the kingdom of darkness. I saw myself crying bitterly and helplessly. It was my graduation day – the day that marked between the ordinary and extra-ordinary, failure and success, and mediocrity and insatiability. Four years of waiting, a month of hope, and a day of downfall – this was the countdown of my life like as I stepped out of the college without bringing home the bacon. Everything seemed turn out futile. It was lifetime recognition, which was lost in the air that I could hardly gather and figure out its plausibility to be formed again. I was hopeless. That destiny was fulfilled by mistakes. If they just knew how my soul cried out loud on the verge of my despair. It was one of the trials I would not expect life could offer me. I could have conquered my inferiority complex, which has long dwelt within my ego. I could have become better. It was a rare chance I could prove myself. It was an honor, which would never belong to me as it flew away until it was gone. Attached in back of my portrait was a folded paper where my poem for my alma mater was inscribed.

I was crying profusely when I was reading the poem. I felt it happened only yesterday. The pain that I abandoned was coming back to embrace my thoughts. When could I put the closure to these thoughts? I decided to close the album as I thought it might lessen the melancholy.
Days, months, and years have passed by; but, whenever graduation day comes in for the others, that moment tries to penetrate in to my mind – a curse that will forever be with me. However, could my destiny have changed should have that recognition been attached to my identity? No one could really tell. Nonetheless, I know that my holistic capabilities can not be measured by only academic standards. I know I can take an extra leap ahead in my odyssey in life. It is a matter of believing in myself. I know I have moved on. And I say I am ready to face the sunrise of the new me.