tunafitty and beyond

I hate it when things are over before you know they're over.

Like when you're really looking forward to the last class of the year with your favourite English teacher in grade 9, and then you find out the class has been cancelled. You didn't get a proper last class, to enjoy the last hour of having this amazing teacher. Instead you get to run around the playground like a banshee, but still... it's bittersweet. And the cheer you let out, when you find out you're getting out of school early, feels like a betrayal, a false echo.

Things never stay the same right up until the end, when the end is forseeable. The ground begins to shift, like before-shocks for an earthquake.

It's not a mood-killer, not necessarily unpleasant, but it is almost always a shock. And then comes the nostalgia, even before the final curtain has come down.