Adieu
It's crazy how much places change as the years pass. Cities become less complex, roads shorter, buildings smaller. One day you realize the places haven't changed at all, you've just grown up. Three years have passed since I last walked into the SOC building, and I find myself casually retracing my steps to the same classroom I used to occupy. I gaze around the room wondering if it was always so small, so dull. When I leave, there's no one smoking on the stairs to walk past. No bus to wait for, no dorm to go to. Even the continuous sound of construction can't mask the eerie silence on campus. It reminds me of when I visited my old elementary school. Walking down empty halls, sitting in empty rooms, remembering childhood. Thinking, "this is where my life happened." Our memories have a way of tricking us into thinking the past is special. Yet, as I grow older, I can't help thinking my past has died along with everything in it. It was dead the moment I walked out the door.
It's crazy how much places change as the years pass. Cities become less complex, roads shorter, buildings smaller. One day you realize the places haven't changed at all, you've just grown up. Three years have passed since I last walked into the SOC building, and I find myself casually retracing my steps to the same classroom I used to occupy. I gaze around the room wondering if it was always so small, so dull. When I leave, there's no one smoking on the stairs to walk past. No bus to wait for, no dorm to go to. Even the continuous sound of construction can't mask the eerie silence on campus. It reminds me of when I visited my old elementary school. Walking down empty halls, sitting in empty rooms, remembering childhood. Thinking, "this is where my life happened." Our memories have a way of tricking us into thinking the past is special. Yet, as I grow older, I can't help thinking my past has died along with everything in it. It was dead the moment I walked out the door.