I hear all the time:
"Don't say goodbye, because that means going away, and
going away means forgetting." But not to me. Going away is
spending my two-in-the-mornings writing melancholy letters to
you for which I'll never buy stamps, no matter how true my
words are. Going away is rewinding the memories twenty times
over every time I lay in my bed to go to sleep, so I can play
them over again and just maybe see where I went wrong. Going
away is swearing that I don't care, but punctuating those
two-in-the-morning letters with stabbed periods that dent the
page anyway.
Going away is not
forgetting. Perhaps I needed a goodbye for that.
