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Because when you said hello, I already anticipated a goodbye

November 13, 2011

Ever since I have been living on my own, I have preferred to share the accommodation. It has been nice having a personal space somewhere in the universe while still being surrounded by it. It has been six years and seven flatmates.

Today, that seventh person left.

By now, it has become a routine, this process of people leaving, for better pastures or worse obligations.

You tell me you are leaving and I won’t be surprised, just a little sad maybe, and then a mental checklist:

Does the person have any of my books?

Do I have to exchange any movies/series/music with that person?

What parting present will the person like?

Are all our inter-personal dues cleared?

Chocolate cake or assorted pastries at the farewell dinner?

And then I will write the ‘ leaver’ a letter summarizing the stay with me (yes, I still write letters, on paper).

As if we won’t ever meet, as if this is a final farewell (It never is).

Soon, a new person would move in and life would continue just like it was, the same trite play with a few different actors, the way it’s supposed to be.

Earlier I used to be more upset at people leaving, sometimes I even cried.

Now, I am getting just way too comfortable with saying ‘goodbyes’ and it’s scaring the hell out of me.

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