Lowya Buluk at a loss for words

I cannot adequately sum up my emotions over the past one week, what more the past 18 months. I told myself that today, I must wake up early & write a detailed account of Redang on the class blog, & if time permits, my experience in PM4. I told myself that I will finish writing about Redang, before I head to Sarawak for 13 days & Redang becomes a secondary memory, no longer fresh in my mind. But the words fail me.

I have experienced this dilemma before, after my first PKTR. On one hand, there is such a full treasure trove of memories that must be recorded before they fall prey to the erosion of time & the fallibility of the human brain. But on the other hand is the unwillingness to do so, because the act of putting all those memories down in words would signify that yes, it has come to an end, & this is all we have left to remember it by. Which is the last thing I would ever want.

I don't feel sad. I am still unable to fully feel sad. I know I have been relatively more emo over the past week than I have ever been throughout the 18 months you guys have known me, & I apologize for leaving an emo picture of me as the last memory you would have of me in PM4, but it is not sadness I feel. Rather, it is nothingness, for lack of a better word to describe this state of limbo I am in, of wanting to linger in these moments a little while more, refusing to move on to the next stage of life.

Who am I kidding? As I write this, a few of us have already left Subang. I am loathe to go back there. What charm would the streets of SS15 hold anymore? Nothing but ghosts of a time when we used to walk from the main campus guardhouse to Madam Joyce's, laughing at whatever it was that had our attentions at that time. Faint imprints of 23 silhouettes in the classroom, poking fun at each other & exasperating our lecturers. Shadows in the corners of the rooms that used to house friendly faces, always welcoming a weary friend who just needed to rest. I envision myself back in Taylor's now, only to find buildings which represent empty husks of a life I once led. There is no more comfort or warmth in that place.

Our only hope now lies in three things: the Facebook group, this blog, & most importantly, the Book of Travelling Secrets. I pray with all my heart that these will always keep us connected, that the Book will actually work, that we will all still play our parts as PM4ians, because I refuse to allow this to become a mere memory of my life.

I cannot adequately sum up my emotions over the past one week. But I can adequately sum up my emotions now - writing this made me cry. I still am crying. & I don't know when I will stop.