Inked

Some eight years ago, I wrote the prologue for our college yearbook. Surprisingly, I find that it holds true not just for college but for life.

Decided to transcribe it as it doesn’t seem to be that clear:

Years ago, when we first stepped into college, troublesome thoughts assailed our senses. Some of us had tears in our eyes, one foot in college, the other foot still in high school. Others were excited to plunge into a new world up ahead, excited to leave behind embarrassing years of near-forgotten adolescence.

The world lay before us then like a whole book of blank pages. As potential authors holding pens in our hands, it was up to us what would end up on these pages. At that point there was endless potential. But of course, we didn’t realize it at that time.

And so we scribbled on, taking up page after page after page, thinking that there were still so many pages left unused, that these were mere drafts and that we would be struck by inspiration later on and write that masterpiece somewhere in the end. Until we got to the last page and realized that we had used up all the pages. Reading through the entire thing, we realized that we had wasted all our ink on nonsensical drivel. And of course, it was too late. We had wasted our college years away.

But wait… was it really such a waste? Take another look at all that ink. At all the marks made upon the pages. Read through all the experiences we wrote down. All those names. All those memories. It’s down in ink, for other people to read. Down in ink, for you to reread and learn something from.

And you know what? You realize that you can’t really waste ink. Not if you use it to write something down.