Worn Once, Kept Forever.

It is not a mere shirt.

At first, it appears to be a mere piece of cloth, a name, some pictures.

But, as you see, it is embracing years.

All its corners have a tale.

The voice of each color of ink is a voice.

Some wrote in a pleasant manner, others hurried, others scribbled.

But all of it… somehow feels like home.

Once we were all unknown to each other.

Different schools, habits, fears. 

We didn’t know who would stay,

who would matter,

who would become that person we can’t imagine leaving behind.

And then slowly, without us noticing,

attendance became friends,

group work became late-night phone calls,

and random talks became recollections worth remembering forever. 

This shirt is evidence of that.

Here, in one place,

are the people who made ordinary days feel important.

The ones who sat beside us, laughed too loud,

shared notes, shared food, shared silence.

Few messages are lengthy, full of emotions that they were not able to express.

Few of them are merely a name but even a name has a tale of its own.

Few could write jokes, that is the way they love.

The rest had inscribed blessings, as they did not know how to bid farewell.

And perhaps that's the worst part of it all.

Because no one really teaches you how to leave a phase of life like this.

There’s no proper ending, no perfect words.

Just a shirt, passed around,

and a quiet understanding that things are changing.

This shirt will be stored in a cupboard one day.

Not used daily.

But never forgotten.

Several years later you may pull it out,

touch your fingers on the stained ink,

and all of a sudden recall it all--

the classes, the fun, the pressure, the individuals.

You will try to read the messages over again,

some clear, some blurred,

and realize… it was never about how perfect the words were.

It was about who wrote them.

Because in the end,

this shirt is not regarding signatures.

It’s about presence of individuals who lived together with you,

and made it better somehow.

So, wear it once.

Allow them to draw everything on it.

Allow it to become messy, crowded with love in the form of messages and imperfect.

Because years from now,

this will not feel like a shirt.

It will feel like a piece of your life

that you were lucky enough to hold onto.

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.