Shakespeare said parting is such sweet sorrow.

I disagree.

There is nothing sweet about sorrow. Nothing beautiful or romantic. Sorrow is painful. It's scary and it is weak.

Sorrow, my friend, shows you for the whimpering mess you are. For the scared little child you try so hard to hide away. It shows your addiction, your dependency.

No, there is nothing sweet about sorrow. And there is nothing sweet about parting. Because parting means goodbyes and farewell.

And it reminds you that eventually, everyone leaves.

A psalm of life

This is a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. We discussed it in out literature class and the sheer simplicity of the feeling is beautiful. But when you put this in context of life here in SIMC it is pretty much the most ironic thing you could read. It's funny actually how life here in college goes.

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

And waiting is something we have learnt to do, very well.

Is it time for goodbye?
Is it time for farewell?
Time to part ways?
No smiles anymore
No glances across the room
No pleasure in company
Going through the motions
Maintaining the facade
Nods and smiles and happy faces
While reality lies hidden
Locked safely away
Maybe it's time to let go?
Time to move on?
Is it already time for goodbye?

Some lessons are so difficult to learn that they need to be taught multiple times. And every time it hurts more and cuts deeper just so that the lesson stays, is remembered. But fools that we are, every time the cut begins to heal, we forget and it is time for another lesson.

We forget that some people aren't worth the pain they cause. We forget that some things should be hidden. We forget that we need to choose what we say to which people. We forget that we need to keep the mask on. We give our trust easily and suffer. We forget that it isn't easy to forgive. We forget that it's easier to walk away than to stay.

Life has a lot of lessons to teach us. And we learn and try to remember. Because after all, there is nothing more we can do.

How do you compete with something intangible? How can you fight with something that you can't touch or even see? How do you fight a feeling? How do you win a bout with an unknown enemy? What kind of weapons can you use?

But then the real question here is what's the point? What's the purpose?

Nothing and no one matters anyway.

It only takes one negative incident to drive out a beautiful experience. It only takes a second to turn the page and by the time you realise that you never finished reading the last page, it's time to return the book. It only takes a single conversation to forget the moments that made the day. It only takes one person to enter to forget that someone was already there. It only takes a minute to forget something sweet that was said or heard.

It's this flimsiness of being that makes life the roller coaster it is.

The thing is, I want to get off.

The chink of glasses. Candlelight flickering off their faces. Perfectly cooked food. And most important - the smiles.

They were smiling, the both of them. Happy, glowing faces. They looked like no one else existed out of their bubble. No one else mattered. Nothing else mattered. They looked into each other’s eyes and they smiled. They held hands across the table as they spoke. It was a completely unconscious gesture. Their feet grazed each other under the table, as if they wanted to reassure themselves that they were actually sitting there and it wasn’t a dream. They sipped their wine and conversation flowed just as smoothly. She gestured as she talked and her fingers unconsciously played with the chain she wore around her neck. He couldn’t get enough of her; she was the one he wanted, needed, had. He touched her fingers and laughed in response to something she said.

But scratch the facade a little and the reality reveals itself. The picture is rosy, beautiful, untrue. The wine helps to ease the pain. The hands touch because they need to say good bye. They are actors both of them, putting on the performances of their lives. Pretending, acting, performing. They push their thoughts away, they can be thought tomorrow. They push their sadness away, the tears can be shed in the dead of the night. They push their fears away, those will be dealt with in the nightmares. They hide the doubts away, tonight is supposed to be perfect.

Tonight is supposed to be perfect and the reality can be held at bay for a little while longer. The wine is too good, the food too delicious, the conversation too interesting, the intimacy too natural.

They are consummate actors.

And this is the performance of a lifetime.

Because sometimes, you need the lie to deal with the reality.