Tearing up during the alma mater song (unexpectedly).
TEARING UP DURING THE ALMA MATER SONG (UNEXPECTEDLY).
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Remember those nights? The library stacks becoming a second home, illuminated only by the glow of your laptop and the fierce determination in your eyes. We perfected the art of color-coding, not just for aesthetics, but as a desperate bid for sanity amidst the chaos of complex theories and endless readings. There were moments, let's be honest, when the pressure mounted, and those meticulously organized notes blurred through a tearful haze. We called it "crying in the stacks," a shared, unspoken rite of passage.
We navigated it all. The relentless pursuit of knowledge, the competitive internships, the heated debates, the sheer grind. And then came the formal ceremonies. Steeped in centuries of institutional tradition, these were the culminating moments of years of relentless effort. We walked those historic grounds, perhaps a little jaded by the constant demands, a little cynical about the pomp and circumstance.
Yet, there’s that moment. The alma mater. A song you’ve heard countless times, perhaps sung dismissively in earlier years. Then suddenly, it hits. A lump forms in your throat. Your eyes well up. It's unexpected, isn’t it? That surge of emotion isn't just about the diploma or the degree. It's about the shared struggle, the late nights, the triumphs, the friendships forged in the crucible of academic intensity. It’s about the person you became here, the indelible mark this place left on your soul. It’s the profound realization of what we collectively built and endured. It’s a quiet acknowledgment of the deep pride, the enduring bond, and yes, the occasional tears, that define our journey.