I don’t believe in goodbyes. I don’t believe that the connections we have to people and things are temporary. That somewhere along the way they cease to exist, cease to carry meaning, cease to be something real.
Goodbye to any possibility of butterflies, sparks, and fireworks.
“I wasn’t sure at first. But then Nikki called me this morning to tell me she’d seen her, too, and we talked about it, and…” She paused.“And what?” I prompted. “We didn’t… say goodbye.”
No one tells you, though, that trying to move on is a kind of death that you inflict upon yourself. People always make it sound so easy.
He put both hands up and backed himself out of the kitchen. “I’ll have most of my things gone by the end of the day.”
New beginnings call for a lot of endings, endings are hard, but they don’t have to be forever which is something I have to constantly remind myself of.
It’s like you live everywhere; there’s ghosts of me and you kissing on park benches and holding hands by the river. There’s memories of you locked away inside my mind and I have no control of where and when I find the key.
I make new friends, experience wonderful things with them, and eventually have to move on and say goodbye.
“She would steal my clothes, take photos in them, tell people she wanted to be just like me, etc. People often told me in confidence that I was on the verge of having one of those stalker roomies.”
You saw me and you wanted to be us. I know this because I can feel your pull towards me when we are both ignoring each other.