WHEN I was young, I would summer at my grandmother’s place in Mindanao. With my cousins, I’d have the time of my life—we’d play ball, run in the fields, skate, ride bikes and scooters and do all the rough and tumble outdoor stuff I felt so deprived of, living in the concrete jungle the rest of the year.
When it was time to say good-bye, my tears would fall. But I’d bite my tongue and look away. I didn’t want them to see that I was not such a toughie, after all.
I hate good-byes.
This heart of mine has been a liability for so long. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t feel so deeply. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t care so much. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t care, at all.
So for a time, I’d periodically come up with some new rules in my life—new rules that evolved through time.
I won’t fall in love with jerks anymore. I will choose wisely. I won’t fall in love and lose my mind in the process. I will be more sensible. I won’t give up what I have for what I think I want. I will be tough. I won’t fall in love. Anymore. These affairs of the heart bring me nothing but trouble. I have found the perfect solution. I won’t love. At all.
I wish it were possible.
I’ve tried—so many times, in my young and not-so-young life to be more laid-back, to be less impassioned, to be more unemotional, to be less affected. I still haven’t succeeded. Why can’t I be cold, unfeeling and distant?
I hate good-byes.
And this is probably why I have a habit and history of leaving, walking out, ghosting. It’s really an act of self-preservation. You leave because you don’t want to be left behind. You take control of the situation by making a decision because you don’t want the situation to take control of you when you are handed down a decision.
I hate good-byes.
I’ve said it before—maybe too often for my own good— I’m leaving now while there is still good. I don’t want to wait for things to go completely bad or for things to become unspeakable between us.
I hate good-byes.
And I have fooled myself for too long. It isn’t any less painful to leave than to be left behind. You feel more empowered yet you don’t feel any less vulnerable. Psychologically, you are triumphant. Emotionally, you are still devastated.
I hate good-byes.
I want to end things on my own terms. I want to make that decision—when and how to say good-bye. But sometimes, it’s not possible. The fate of things and relationships, the longevity of our love affairs, the duration of our time on Earth—often, they are all predestined.
I hate good-byes but I will never regret choosing to love and be loved—despite what I know will eventually happen. Thereafter.
Because Winnie the Pooh says it perfectly: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard.”