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The art of goodbye

In the cadence of fleeting melodies, "All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go" echoed through the corridors of my childhood, a refrain stitched into the tapestry of my yesterdays. Sisters' graduations and school farewells wove this song into the fabric of significance, and as I've traversed the tapestry of time, countless farewells unfurled, leaving behind not just the familiar abode but an entire homeland—a mere trash can filled with echoes of what once were memories.







In the journey of goodbyes, an art unbeknownst to me, I discovered the subtle alchemy of detachment. People sought camaraderie, yet I, in the dance of self-sabotage, became adept at pushing them away, oblivious to the acceptance that solitude was my sole companion in life's ephemeral ballet. A whirlwind year unfurled from a suitcase, immersing me in diverse cultures, prompting introspection beneath alien skies. Amidst these wanderings, a silent query lingered—what if my tales remained untold, concealed within the recesses of my soul?


In the midst of profound solitude, I sailed through the craziest year, encountering diverse landscapes, yet unknowingly tethered to the silence of my own story. How callous was I, ensnared by loneliness's embrace, oblivious to the yearning for connection that lingered within. Family, my constant across continents, held the threads of unconditional love, but the loss of one constant altered the melody of my existence. The one who forgave swiftly in the clutches of my demons, a rock amidst the tumult of my self-inflicted storms.


Reflecting upon apathy and the denial of a desperate desire for connection, I yearn to whisper to my past self—a plea to halt the fleeing from love. Yet, in the tapestry of time, grief materialized, stealing joy and burdening hearts with its leaden weight. The permanence of goodbyes etched into my soul, transforming a once casual word into an arduous utterance.

Now, every farewell is a symphony of poignant notes, resonating in the corners of recollection. Rooms become vessels of cherished memories, each space illuminated with the soft glow of moments held tightly.


The balcony echoes with laughter, the bed cradles warm embraces, the pillow retains the scent soldiering a thousand washes, and the door blooms eternally with flowers. The creature of habit, once fluent in goodbyes, now faces the heartache of bidding adieu to the view beyond the window, understanding the irrevocability of farewells. How do I say goodbye to the bed that held me in your gaze?


But my life is a graveyard of ghosts that perhaps were never real. So as I let go of the traces of my imagination...


To those who extended friendship and love to the apprehensive soul within me, I extend a remorseful lyric. For deeming your tears eccentric, for recoiling from your caring gestures, for inflicting pain to evade the guilt of affection—forgive me. Though a vestige of me remains poised for inevitable partings, I now wage a silent war against it, striving to ensure that no one else tastes the bitterness of farewell as I once did.


I am sorry .... how could I have befriended you when I didn't want to do that to my own soul?


Perhaps I loved you because I saw a reflection of my ghost in you- hoping I can save you to be able to save myself.







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