Talks with the Mirror

Untitled Part 18: goodbyes

2020

When I was twelve-years-old, I left the country where I was born and moved to the United States. I wasn't scared, I wasn't excited. I had no idea what awaited me, and yet I could not help but feel numb. I was leaving behind family and friends, yet a part of me didn't worry too much about it because I understood that moving to America would mean a better life - one in which I could easily afford tickets to come back home. 

Eight years have gone by.

I never returned.

First because I couldn't afford it, but then it was because I didn't want to.

When I first left, I had this hope to see everyone again so I never took the chance to do proper goodbyes. I just figured I would come back home for the holidays. But, as time passed, it dawned upon me that some of those people I might actually never come to see again. That was when my brain/heart started doing this detachment thing against my will. A part of me wanted to stay connected, while another deemed the connections unnecessary and a waste of energy because I would never see them again.

I guess that's what you call a cold bitch.

I would have messages from my old schoolmates who missed me, and I would arrogantly type "I miss you too" while rolling my eyes. The truth is that I did miss them. I missed them a lot. I just refused to accept it and let myself ache for people I could not see whenever I pleased. I forced myself to appear strong while being a coward who avoids her emotions.

That had already been hard enough, then I found out that I was going to move to Iceland. When I tell you my heart sank, I am still putting it lightly. I don't remember ever feeling such a high level of frustration as that day. I was going to be leaving behind new family, and new friends... all over again. This time I also left behind my first love, which made the parting even harder.

But, knowing what goodbyes did to me, I avoided them. I made them impersonal and short. I pretended to not be bothered when in reality it felt like a part of me was being torn off and left to dry. A part of me did stay there. 

Whoever I was before that second move, I do not remember. I began to avoid the idea of making any permanent connections because I was tired of how temporary they felt. If you aren't attached, then you can't get hurt. If you aren't attached, then there will be no one to say goodbye to... no one to miss. I cannot miss people. It hurts so much. So instead I pretend not to care about them. I don't let anyone become a part of my routine, because when they leave I won't have that empty pit in my stomach anytime I have to do it alone. I push people away so that one day I won't have to be the one watching them leave.

There. I have finally put it down into words.

This is as hard to write as it was to admit. I don't think I've ever been this honest about my own fears.

My best-friend is planning to attend university in another country. When she told me that, all I could think about is how I can't stand the thought of saying goodbye to her. Almost like a computer algorithm, I started distancing myself. Distancing myself in thought, in conversation, in the plans for the future. Making myself scarce so that when she has to go I can act like my life won't be affected. 

I hate that I'm doing this. Now, at least, I've let it out of my chest. 

But that's not enough.

I need to fight my dread of goodbye. I can't live a life without people to care about, and unfortunately, sometimes, I will have to say goodbye to them. It isn't the end of the bond unless I let it be so.

Stop that self-destruction genie that pushes me to be an insecure dumbass, and realize that some people are worth keeping in our lives, even if FaceTime will have to suffice until you can fly out to them. Goodbye can be See you later.