On Goodbyes6:25 AM
I wake up every hour. Everything is unfamiliar: dreams fading in and out of reality, sweaty sheen all over my body, soft light and darkness. It's not worry or sadness or anything like regular feelings. It's the feeling that comes every once in a while, the nonfeeling, the feeling of change, when something I once loved becomes shelved so far back into memory's recesses that it triggers nothing, good or bad.
Life has it that nothing can take the edge off goodbyes. We lie silly things like, "I'm sure we'll see each other again," or "I'll miss you," or "I'll never forget you," or "I'll always love you." But that's the cruel thing about love on earth: the thing that supposedly lasts forever is the first thing to go. Other people take their spots. Life closes in, washes over, seals off the empty places. Time smooths the ache. Goodbye promises are a joke, and everyone knows it, and that's why goodbyes hurt -- because it highlights just how frail friendship is, how short life is, how powerless love seems.