an open letter to my second home
Dear Ngee Ann Poly,
Where do I begin?
People don’t really understand my deep love for you when I talk about you. To be honest, neither did I. Until I had a huge lack of love for some place else to compare it to.
I remember the day we met. It was a life-changing experience; one I will tell for years to come. Sixteen year old me, fresh out of secondary school, full of hope and longing for something to challenge me, decided that I had had enough of… uniforms. I craved freedom and what better way to experience that than a routine of deciding what to wear everyday in the next step of my education? Granted, it was the path less taken, but I had never let the probability of losing out change my mind. Persuading my parents to let me take that first leap into the great unknown was difficult, but necessary. I succeeded, and the rest is history.
On the days that I miss you, I take awhile to reminisce over the good times we had together. We were good apart, but we were beautiful together. Not to mention, you had good soul searching spots. Or SSS, as I like to call them. Every school should have a soul searching spot or two, like a bench or a quiet roof top with gorgeous scenery that you can visit to reflect on the day, away from the crowd. I found one in the outermost seat of the second level of the Atrium, the FMS roof top, the sports complex bleachers, just to name a few. (I have yet to find one here.)
Which is why I’m struggling so hard to fill the widening void in my heart.
