This is the Last Time

As a sentimentalist, I tend to be particularly mindful of the significance of everyday events. I find a great deal of meaning in the most trivial meetings and departures; the most banal beginnings and endings. A few days ago, I completed and submitted my very last piece of schoolwork. As I dropped it in my lecturer's mailbox, my mind raced back to that afternoon in 2001 I submitted my first term paper, worrying if it was truly of "university standard".

Despite my attachment to these things, I failed to realise that yesterday was the last day of the last semester of my academic life. It took an email from the director of the campus facility at which I work part-time to remind me of this. And as I sit here during my last official shift at the said facility, I notice that the student who booked an appointment for this slot is not turning up. The last class, the last assignment, the last schoolday and the last shift are behind me. The only thing remaining is the last exam on the 29th. Will it end without ceremony as well?

(An aside: yes, this entry's title is a reference to the Keane song. And yes, I love Keane; unashamedly so).