Fragments of a Letter Never to be Sent

Dear ______,

Goodbye. Goodbye. That’s how it should sound. None of the heavily emotive tone of the first. No searching look around my eyes when I gaze my last at you. No quaver in my voice as I utter those last two syllables. No hesitation. No gulping down a large lump in my throat. That lump of all the other syllables I would have wanted to say.

Sure. Firm. Determined. Like a grown person sure of what the world has in store for me. I’ll say those syllables, then nada, done, let us shake hands like the grown-ups we’ve recently turned into. I will say it. Force back the I-want-to-stays and the Wish-things-were-differents. I’ll be professional about the dismissal of the former part of my life. Goodbye. ‘Twas a fine three years but a grander life awaits us so let us part ways. Shake. Shake. Shake. Goodbye.

See, that’s how the world works. You meet a person, spend a moment with them, then continue irrevocably on the line of your life. Life doesn’t bend or curve in waves or parabolas. Life is a linear function. No surprises, just events after events that lead onto infinity. The people you meet will intersect with you at a point and then you go down your line and they go down theirs. Done. Goodbye.

So let’s get this over with, shall we? Let me look you in the eyes with my new-found confidence. Let me flash you a brilliant smile. Someday you’ll see me on a pedestal, hammered down by golden nails, no less. You see, I’m moving forward, upward, skyward. You’re falling behind me… so going back to what I was saying earlier, let’s get this over with. Say goodbye. Shake hands. Walk away. No drama. Pro, adults, mature.

But—it is just so difficult. As this is only a letter, not the goodbye just yet—I will play at foolishness and let my hand loose. I wish things were different. I wish that we can walk together longer. I wish that your hand will linger on mine forever when you hand me into the taxi. I wish we can get drunk on tequila again and watch the sunrise with the worst headache known to men. I don’t mind a perpetual hangover, but let me be perpetually with you. I wish that I can stay.

Wishes. Frivolous nothings. I will say goodbye. As planned. Firmly. But perhaps, not really very firmly. I will steal one last embrace. Then I will walk down my line and you will walk down your line. Goodbye.

Knightly