We were hanging out at Sha's room the other day. It was a bright sunny evening, the kind with golden hues over lining the horizon making everything seem so magical. We weren't doing much, just catching up, chatting, joking around, but something about the moment that was so adolescent, kind of felt like a significant moment I'd look back and reminisce the golden of youth I once had. Sha was strumming and singing to Imagine Dragon's Radioactive and the sunlight reflecting her guitar blinding my eyes made it felt like art, like a scene from the Kings of Summer where it was just them indulging in the wilderness with an emotional instrumental piece playing in the background. It was enchanting.
I went to Statistics class the other day. Me and K.Ain were the only girls who came. It was presentation week and all the girls already presented (including me and K.Ain) so it wasn't surprising that a lot of them skipped classes. We were the survivors. At the end of the class K.Ain just randomly hugged me. It was the most adorable thing.
I slept at Syarifah's room the other day. (long story short, my room was locked and I didn't bring my key; nobody was in the room), Azwa's compartment was empty since she moved out to Salahuddin. She left her blanket behind but Zalifah's outsider friend was using it, so I just used my own jacket. When I woke up, there was a blanket covering me. Someone tucked me in while I was asleep. It was utterly sweet.
I was walking back home alone the other day. I prayed Asar in KICT before heading off to my mahallah. As I was walking, K. Ton stopped her motorcycle and told me to hop on. I brought my laptop with me that day to discuss my Webprogramming project with K.Azah and it was really heavy, so I was immensely thankful that K.Ton happened to be there and wanted to give me a lift. It has been a while since I was on a motorcycle. The last time was with Zakiah which was last semester, and I almost forgot how refreshing it is to feel the fresh breeze on my face. It was such a serendipity.
I would miss my lecturers. Some were so nice, so tender, some were so cool, so composed, and some were so terrifying and so nerve-wrecking that this semester was such a whirlwind of emotional dissonance, but each of their trait was what made them great teachers.
I'll miss Sir Sharyar's speed talking, his terrifying glare, his nerve-wrecking presentation evaluation, and weirdly his beard as well.
I'll miss Sir Wahab's toothy grin, his "In other words...'. his multi-colored markers, and his willingness in repeating everything he said.
I'll miss Sir Farruh's general coolness and his lately unshaven face.
I'll miss Sir Ridza's squishy shoes when he walks around, his lucidia handwriting, and the way he flips his grey hair which makes me so overwhelmed.
The last week is always the most hectic with accumulated quizzes, unattended assignments and presentations upon presentations of projects we worked on the whole semester. It's always one anxiety after another. I just randomly had a thought of pizza during our last webprogramming lecture. I expressed to Fatin and Nogha how I'm craving for pizza so much it's almost weird. But the weirdest thing that day was when I was attending the last Usrah session of the semester later that evening, and surprisingly K.Maryam ordered Dominos. I felt like crying. It was such an interesting coincidence, because I was chatting with Shifa about my sudden craving for pizzas before we even knew that K.Maryam ordered them.
K. Maryam said this later on.
" We often reminisce ukhuwwah with only the happy memories of being together. What we forget, or rather, don't want to remember is the tough times standing each other when in fact ukhuwwah is truly the sum of everything good or bad. "
(Just to be clear, although I'm quoting her, I am also paraphrasing and translating.)
So how accurate is history being recorded when we are inclined to narrate perspectives based on how we feel about them. Either we're wearing victory, or we were the ones to taste defeat, history would be written accordingly. But then again, as much as memories are malleable, noone can actually say that it is wrong for us to do so.
It's not the fact that we laughed or we fought. It's the fact that we're still together.
Labels: college, friends