good at good-byes
i am not good at good-byes. you probably wouldn’t understand. but you’d probably understand more than i do though, because i don’t really understand. is there any reason for me to be cold and standoffish? does it make it worse the way others are so warm? yet the resolution of my own insouciance seems so inescapable and inevitable to me. like this is my identity. allow me to insist. this is who i am.
do you want to know how much i care? i care a lot. i care about the smallest things. i am an obsessive. my heart breaks a million times every day. i care a lot.
but human response is beyond me. that is not to say i am an emotionless stone, because sometimes i feel i am purely feeling or emotion. yet the layer of composedness against my skin is not permeable, nor penetrable. i am suffocating, every hour, inside my own self. yet i don’t know what i’m supposed to do. i will stand inside myself everyday and feel so hopelessly dumb.
and as the mild air shifts past and onward and the rain pours and water falls of the edge of buildings, i will say a nameless good-bye and give one last hug at her request and we will never see each other again. and i all i will be left with are the hundred or so words i decide to type into the bleak glow of a TextEdit screen afterwards — pondering the incomprehensible reality of my taciturn lack of gregariousness. i am the all consuming silence of unfriendliness that you can finally leave behind. to you, i only wish the best.
