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.
ᴏɴᴄᴇ-ᴜᴘᴏɴ-ᴀ-ᴍɪᴅsᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ-ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ*