[untitled]

story & illustrations

by Sophy Chu

“It’s the emptiest and yet the fullest of all human messages: Goodbye.”

   Truth be told, I’ve never really liked saying goodbyes, and truth be told, I didn’t want to send you off at the airport at all, because I knew that your goodbye would be one of those goodbyes, those goodbyes that I’m afraid of, those goodbyes that I can’t and won’t and don’t know how to say goodbye to.

  So here, I apologize in advance for my watery eyes and forced smile trembling at the corners. I apologize for the wet spot I made on your shirt from my snot and tears when I hugged you and buried my face into your shoulder. I apologize for putting off this goodbye until now because I was too busy trying to make myself look strong like the way I promised I would be, but the choking tight lump in my throat and the stream of never-ending tears I am trying to hold back is making it hard to breathe, and making everything extremely difficult for me to not break down. I apologize for the dumb jokes that I made, which I admit, were a lame attempt to make the whole situation seem lighter. I apologize for the stupid quotes such as “this isn’t a goodbye, just a see you later” because I hate that shit, and you hate that shit, because I am sixteen years old enough to understand that this shit won’t make us feel any better. I apologize for not having enough time to say the things I wanted to say to you, the things that I practiced millions and millions of times over and over again in my mind for months because I knew that this would happen eventually and don’t you dare give me that forgiving smile of yours and say in a soft voice “it’s okay” like it’s not a big deal, because to me, it is not okay, and to me it is a great deal, and to me it matters. 

I apologize for the many ways I disappointed you, let you down, or made you sad, or made you mad, but that isn’t the point and that isn’t what this is about. This isn’t about worrying or confessing about the things that we did wrong or the things that we said without meaning to in the past because we should be celebrating or rejoicing or something like that. Yeah, we should be hugging each other and wishing each other the best but heck if I don’t want your best to be my best and for us to share in a best with each other together where we are smiling and laughing and frolicking like pink unicorns in blossoming fields of rainbows and happiness. 

  I apologize if I am not a person of many words, and although I don’t really show my affections like the way a cat purrs and rubs against your legs, or the way a dog wags its tail when you scratch it behind the ears, but you should know by now how dear you are to me, and how much I love you in the most fierce and sisterly ways. I apologize if I am crying and I know I will continue to fill my nights with weeping, and each of my tears will be sentenced to death on my pillow every time I think of you, because I miss you so much. I miss you so freaking much.

  I hope that in old age or times of darkness, you can still remember me. That was what I practiced saying to you, remember me. Even if “remembering me” means thinking about that time you had to clean up the mess I made after vomiting on your favorite jacket from drinking too much beer at that shady party I dragged you to, or that time I acted annoyed and pissed off when you asked “can you braid my hair again?” right after I finished doing your braid, even though I secretly like untangling your hair and seeing your face muscles relax and you relish the comfort after a stressful day. Even if you think of the time I made fun of your mono-brows, the time I laughed at your not-so-funny joke that nobody understood and made everything awkward, or the time I interrupted your conversation with your boyfriend with a strange question about the mating habits of a chimpanzee. 

  I hope that in spite of all the things that I did to sabotage your reputation or wear down your patience, I hope that when you think of me, you still remember me with a smile, the subtle kind of smile that still lingers on the corners, the type of smile that when people see you on a bus, eyes distant and staring into space, they ask what are you smiling at? You’ll chuckle and reply, a memory, a beautiful memory. I know I sound cheesy, and this sounds crappy and terrible, but I find it easier to express myself by hiding behind a metaphor, than actually telling you my real feelings. I’m sorry but it’s the best that I’ve got so far, because I’m afraid. I’m afraid I can’t and won’t and don’t know how to say goodbye to you.