Saying Goodbye

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Goodbyes are awesome.

I hate them, as they’re sad, but they’re actually awesome.

They’re an end to a chapter, yes, but a welcome to so many more chapters.

Goodbyes are awkward.

Sometimes you say one to someone and then you both walk off in the same direction.

(You then have to jump into a nearby pot plant and pretend it’s your home to prevent further awkward interaction.)

Goodbyes are useful.

They’re the syntax for closing your greeting loops so you don’t become a broken hello record driving everyone bonkers.

Goodbyes are hard.

Because: feelings.

And sometimes when you say them it’s struggle to connect as you’ve already changed shape in preparation for the next step on your path, and you don’t fit in any more, and it’s like being in a bittersweet limbo soup, where you’re the bitter spiky broccoli, unable to have any poignant mushiness with the sweet soggy carrots.

(Hopefully the carrots aren’t soggy from crying. But, crying gets the sad out – so, maybe the carrots should get it all out in order to feel better.)

(But maybe not. That’d make for really salty soup.)

Goodbyes bring people out of the woodwork.

You find yourself inviting your hairdresser and that one weird dude you see floating around your building sometimes to your leaving thing, and that’s pretty incredible. You don’t do that when you do your tax return.

(Side note! Can we please invent “Goodbye Agents”? Someone who takes stock of all your friendship earnings, files address claims and refunds poor life choices?)

Goodbyes make you realize people actually like you.
(Nya ha haaaa! The fools!)

(Or they’re just being nice to get rid of you.)

(But they probably like you really.)

Goodbyes happen all the time.

We’re constantly saying goodbye, with every breeeeeath we taaaaaake.

(Each exhale is a farewell. Who we are now isn’t who we are next week. And that’s true, because, science. Every five days our intestinal lining is renewed. Every fifteen days our white blood cells are replaced. Every six months we have a whole new bloodstream.)

Goodbyes are needed to maintain space in your kitchen cupboard.

Please don’t be that one annoying person who always leaves muesli packets in the pantry with mere smidgens of sustenance remaining.*

* (I may be this person.)

Goodbyes are unable to be said by vampires.

The origin of the word is from 15th Century txt-speak. “GodBweYe” stood for “God be with you” when signing off in telegrams. So – as well as not being able to have most Italian based food, the ability to say goodbye is something that vampires also miss out on.

So, maybe not saying goodbye is a good thing, if it means you can live forever, as long as you avoid sunlight and pointy table-legs to your chest area.

(Nope. I left for school one morning and came back to find my mum gone. There was no nagging for if I’d eaten my lunch, and there was no farewell. There was a note, but it’s not the same. Closure is important.)

Goodbyes make the cliché of “tell people you love them whilst you can” ring true.

We don’t know when it will be the last goodbye.

(But – if we’re always fare-welling and expelling feels, doesn’t it water down the effect slightly when it is the end and you do have a designated time to offload everything and be all “SHAZAM! Look at how much I appreciate you! Go away more often so I can tell you this without me feeling weird and vulnerable!”)

Goodbyes are almost impossible in this connected world.

Skype is a blessing. After teary goodbyes at the airport you can then text your beloved to say you arrived okay.

(But this also makes it really hard to know when to say goodbye for real.)

(See above.)

Goodbyes see people bequeathing goodbye gifts upon you.

(Don’t do that! I’m making you sad. Why are you rewarding me?)

(Also, I’m trying to cram my life into a suitcase. And your token of friendship probably won’t fit.)

(Or are you purposely giving me some cruel representation that I’m abandoning you?)

Goodbyes are important.

Hollywood, please take note. Please stop with all the sequels.

(Otherwise, what will we remake in 20 years time?)

(Also, please stop giving us “the same but different”. No one wishes to see a new Mulan, except this time she’s called Yulan and has to defeat the puns. Disney, follow your own advice, and let it go.)

Without goodbye, we can’t say hello again.

And sometimes, lack of absence makes the heart want to stab absence in the eye with a really hot french fry as absence just won’t stop hanging around leaving toe-nail clippings all over the place.

Sometimes, you’ll come across a goodbye that brings tears to your eyes.

And that’s when you know who to stay in touch with.

But most importantly: our vampire population has vastly decreased with the development of the word since the 1500s.

Which means that we must be saying more hellos. Which is awesome.

Goodbyes aren’t necessarily the end.

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