Life is an infinite series of goodbyes.

Goodbyes I wish I never had to make, and goodbyes I didn’t know I wouldn’t want to make until I had to, so my heart dropped a little and wondered Why couldn’t just one more day have been? There are the goodbyes that will eventually happen, but which I dread it so much I shush myself when they cross my mind. There are the goodbyes that are fully necessary, and I knew it completely so they were the easiest to grasp. Then there are the goodbyes that happened although I never knew they did, and come to think of it, I’m still not quite sure they did. So sometimes I look back at that naiive, unacknowledged goodbye with nostalgia and a smile, but mainly with a sad wringing feeling compensated by the satisfaction that at least I was stupid and overly-desirous , exactly because I didn’t know it was really goodbye (and maybe it wasn’t). Most of the time, however, I just feel like taking God by the shoulders and shaking him hard, asking him to please answer me this simple question: “Why’d there have to be Goodbyes?”


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