We Thought There Was Still Time

It hasn’t ended yet—

and maybe that’s what makes it harder.

Everything is still the same on the outside…

the same classrooms,

the same corridors,

the same people walking past like any other day—

but somewhere inside,

it already feels different.

There’s a strange silence

hidden between our usual laughter now,

like we all know something is about to change

but no one wants to say it out loud.

We still sit together,

still joke,

still complain about the same things—

but the moments feel heavier,

like they are trying to stay a little longer.

We used to count days to finish this,

to move on,

to start something new.

But now,

we quietly wish

time would just slow down.

Because these aren’t just random days anymore—

these are the “last few times”

happening without warning.

The last long conversation

that felt normal.

The last time we all laughed

without thinking it meant something more.

The last time sitting together

felt so easy.

And the hardest part is—

there won’t be a clear ending.

No final moment

that tells us

this is it.

Just a slow drifting—

less messages,

fewer calls,

until one day

we realize

we don’t talk like we used to.

We will all move forward,

meet new people,

build new lives—

and on the outside,

everything will look fine.

But sometimes,

in the middle of a busy day,

something small will remind us—

a place,

a song,

a random memory—

and suddenly,

we will miss this…

more than we expected to.

Not just the place,

not just the routine—

but the way we were

when we were here,

together,

without even knowing

we were living something

we would one day

struggle to let go of.

And maybe that’s the truth—

it hasn’t ended yet…

but our hearts

have already started missing it. 

Four years just passed by within the blink of an eye. 

It all feels like yesterday- every single memory, moment, fight, happiness, joy, sadness, etc. 

A Day Without Phone

What if, just for one day,

you didn’t reach for your phone

the moment you woke up?

No notifications waiting,

no messages to check,

no endless scrolling

that makes hours disappear without notice.

At first, it would feel strange—

like something is missing,

like you don’t quite know

what to do with the silence.

But slowly,

that silence would begin to change.

You would start noticing things again—

the way people actually look at you

when they talk,

the small pauses in conversations,

the comfort of just being present.

You would listen more,

not just to respond,

but to understand.

Laughter would feel lighter,

moments would feel real,

and time would no longer feel rushed.

You wouldn’t feel the need

to capture everything,

to post it,

to prove that it happened.

Because you were there—

fully, completely there.

Maybe we didn’t lose connection

because life got busy.

We clearly lost it

because we slowly replaced it

with something easier,

something faster,

something less real.

And maybe,

what we have been searching for all along

was never inside our screens.