The End of a Journey

To be honest, I expected to feel victorious when I finished taking my last exam this week. In my head, I expected it to feel like crossing the finish line of a marathon, collapsing on the ground with joy and tears and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that you did it. I didn't know if I would laugh or cry (or both), but I expected more than anything to feel a deep sense of triumph, walking out of that testing center, driving home, celebrating the rest of the evening afterward...

If anything, I felt relief. Relief that the essay prompts were easy. Relief knowing that countless people were praying for me. Relief that I wouldn't have to do any more studying. But it was short-lived.

Because then, I felt depressed.

There was triumph, yes. A burden had lifted, yes. But at the same time, it didn't feel real. Perhaps because it was just an ordinary Tuesday. There were still errands to run and chores to be done and so on and so forth. The world, like usual, did not stop for me and my victory. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry. I wanted to go out, but I wanted to stay home. I wanted to hang out with a bunch of people but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to celebrate, but I didn't know how. There was nothing that appealed to my senses.

I don't know why exactly I felt depressed, but I learned that it's not uncommon to feel this way. For in the victory, there is also a loss; and in reaching the destination, a journey has ended. Here, my academic journey gently winds to a close and while I celebrate my achievements, and can finally shirk the burden of stress I've carried throughout college, at the same time I also mourn the loss of what I've devoted my entire life to for the past 15 years. The transition is much more difficult than I anticipated, but I remain hopeful that something better awaits.