ONE OF the big misconceptions the human race still believes in is how love always means staying. People think that love is measured solely by the willingness of both parties to stay in the relationship. But time has made me realize that bidding farewell takes even more courage than staying. And only a love that is authentic can survive distance created by physical and emotional separation.
Leaving doesn’t mean unloving and I have proven this to myself with the kind of love I have for the Varsitarian.
I could have easily stayed in the “V” for another year or more. But to be honest, this option means clinging to a comfortable and unchallenging part of my life, which means I will never achieve my full potential.
As the days go by, I can feel time slowly creeping up on me, a constant reminder I have chosen to move forward now. This is also connected to having witnessed many of my peers, those who opted to work immediately after graduation unlike my choice to pursue post-graduate studies, establish themselves in their own respective fields.
While it is with a sense of pride and happiness to watch them live their lives outside the University, I have realized I want that for myself too. But I cannot do that if I continue to reside in the safe confines of the V office. Change is likened to a revolution, a disruption of routine for a new dawn to rise.
Therefore, to start a new chapter in one’s life, another must close. And like all good things, my stay in the V nears its finale. But the agony of letting go remains the biggest trial in my two-year stay.
But before anything else, one has first to understand how deeply rooted I am in the V. It took me three tries before I was finally accepted in the publication. When the fateful phone call finally came in the summer of 2014, the tears just washed away years of resentment and hatred for being rejected.
For the next two years, I have treated the V as my home, my source of strength, and my mere reason for existence. So to leave the V like this, I don’t even know how to begin.
In all the relationships I’ve had in my 21-year existence, I have never been the one to break up. Be it romantic quests or lost friendships, I was always the one to stay, to try to work things out and fix what’s broken. Not necessarily because I was at fault, but I believe staying through the rough times is an indication of genuine affection.
But now, there is no other choice than to say goodbye. As I write this farewell, I can’t help but feel nostalgic about my two years in this institution.
For some, it may just be another 24 months, but for me, it was a lifetime—a lifetime well spent. Although nostalgia may connote a negative impression, I believe it signifies the importance of having something worth remembering.
In a way, it is a gentle reminder to us all that love transcends all forms of change. It may be forgotten but its intensity will never wither, even though man’s constructed ideology of time as a fleeting element.
Love will remain constant, and this is the love I have for the V: constant and unchanging.
If I treated V as a lover, she would be the equivalent of a crazy girlfriend; she was demanding, strict and not to mention, the jealous type. But love is love, and I found all these flaws to be the same reasons why I loved the V more.
Sadly, like all relationships, tough decisions had to be made, and mature individuals will agree with me when I say that unlike almost every sappy romantic chick flick ever created, love is not the only factor that needs to be considered. Certain circumstances demand a greater sacrifice and with this, one’s love is proven.
I had to leave, not because I wanted to, but because the love the V offers is a life-changing experience I wish everyone could have. And if I stay more than my allotted time, I would be denying other potential staffers of her love.
Therefore the passage, “Many are called but few are chosen,” holds true for us staffers, both past and present. It is a privilege to love and serve the V and the Thomasian community, regardless of how long one stayed.
Until my dying day, being in the V, in all its majesty and splendor, will always be one of my favorite memories.
Although for now, it seems impossible to let the V go, unknowing of where to put all this love I still have, I will eventually be at peace with admiring her from afar. I will continue to support, protect, and uphold the journalistic values and prowess she instilled in me.
I am more than fortunate, to say the least, to have loved the V. In the words of the honey-loving children’s character Winnie the Pooh, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
But leaving doesn’t mean unloving because no matter where life takes me, I will always look back at my humble beginnings in the V.
Leaving might mean I will no longer be physically present in Room 105 of the Tan Yan Kee Student Center, be in with all the current staff’s inside jokes, or even understand half the jargon they’ll use, but it will never mean I will stop loving the V.
Leaving doesn’t mean unloving because as I leave the V, the love I have for her will stay.
