It began because it is difficult to say goodbye.

Published Wednesday, May 17, 2006 by Robin | E-mail this post

In 1984, George Orwell wrote:

For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. … For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossible. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless.

It felt weird when I went back to camp last Sunday and Eugene said that this might be the very last time I’ll be sleeping on the bed above his. It felt weird when Yirong wished me all the best and asked for my ORD treat. And it felt weird when ZhaoKai asked about my college and career plans. Each time, I added that I’ll be back in camp before and on May 30.

One countdown reaches its finishing while the end looms for another countdown; but this time I’ll be leaving a lot more behind. I’ve always wanted to go overseas for university but it was only when my first acceptance letter came in that the weight of leaving Singapore for 4 years or more sunk in. It feels weird because whenever the committee makes plans for the Young Adults Ministry, they talk about me as if I come along with an expiry date.

Transmissions is for friends and the people who have been part of my life.

Transmissions started because it is difficult to say goodbye.