These few months are all we have left. After this, it’s another beginning, the final beginning of the final lap of this 4-year race. This is that brief space of time to do, to be, to have, to see. To live. This is the last summer.
I sound dramatic, I know. But there’s a feeling of urgency involved. We’re 21, we’re young and free. We’re going to remember this age later, later when there won’t ever be “world enough and time”, there will only be regrets and a sense of ‘if only’ that will linger around like a sour smell of dreams wasted. We so eagerly look forwardly to getting older when we’re young, we yearn to emulate our parents and older siblings, have real jobs, be independent, steer clear from heartbreak, look glamorous. But in the wake of all the effort we put in to making this happen, we forget who we are. We’re not made of steel, we can’t be consistently rigid. We’re clay right now, the type that my niece likes to play and make funny shapes with. We can be molded now, we can experiment and be rash rather than reasoned and rational. This is the time to try and fall, and try again.
Let’s not waste time on pleasantries or small talk. Let’s not worry and fret over what may or may not happen. Let’s not consider consequences or forecast calamities. Let’s not give up but rather give in. Let’s not sigh and shake our heads in resignation but seize the day instead. Let’s not chase shadows when we can see tangibility dance enticingly around. Let’s not turn away from momentary bliss because it’s hurt before. Let’s not take a U-turn and just keep going wherever the road leads. Let’s live.