I hate the word goodbye.
Not only because it has the word ‘bye’ in it but also because it expects us to be optimistic about departure.
When I was in school, I thought this is it, this is how my life is going to be – for well, the rest of my life. I had my family, which actually consisted of two women other than me, I had my ‘love’ and I had my best friends. Of course good grades and shitty exams were never included in my equation, but I really thought that was it.
And I lost everything. Everyone.
To some, I HAD to say goodbye, whereas to others it happened because I wanted to leave. People, I’ve concluded had their time. They had section in your life and once the page is turned, one has to bid farewell to them. I have always expected and accepted that. But I have never necessarily wanted it.
People leaving is change. Change is … well, hard. Unwanted. And so, so, so scary.
The thing is you don’t really know how much to fight for each person, how much time to invest in them, how much is worth it. I guess the only reason I try again, is to see if things happen differently the next time. Sometimes I try, because if I don’t I will feel as if I’m cheating myself. I wouldn’t be at peace.
I am in such a conflict with myself about making people stay or leave that I forget that the problem is not me. Or that it can be solved by me.
I know (and thanks FArun) that whatever happens to me, in any scenario, in any problem, in any aspect is a social possibility of a million in one. If you are leaving my life, it’s not entirely because of you, or entirely because of me or entirely because of a great study opportunity. It is happening because there are a million things at play and not one of us can go against that number.
Does that mean I give up hope?
Well, hope is a bitch. She’s inside you even when you don’t need her. And the thing is she doesn’t know when to leave,and she never will leave either. Hope, is a whole different subject for whom I will not waste my words here. But the bottom point is, hope is such, that it breathes in me at every given second. I am hopeful even when I’m the most hopeless.
Therefore believing that I can beat the odds, that I can play fate and win, however big of an illusion it may be still lives in me life a fire constantly fed. Maybe farewells are not in our hands, maybe they will happen irrespective of whether we try or not, or whether we want it to occur or not. Maybe destiny is sealed and there’s nothing we can do about it than to say ‘goodbye.’
But I will not go gently into the night.