Act V, Scene III

It's like a slap in your face.

A new picture, innocent in its place, smirks at you from your laptop screen, and it should be okay, you should be okay with it, but something inside begins to hurt, with that familiar ache. New links clicked, pages change. The pain remains and you pretend not to notice. Ignorance is bliss, they say. What's that? No guarantees? Hold on while I go ask for a refund.

In a few days your life will change faster than you can snap your fingers. Leaving behind friends and feelings, you have to move on...there's nothing left for you here anymore. Don't even consider opening that other offer letter. Staying here brings pain. Leave. There's nothing for you here anymore.

It's like a slap in your face.

Running away is so much easier. Pretend you can't see the obvious, turn away and breathe normally. When pain rams into you with the force of a freight truck and knocks you off your feet, laugh at how silly you are, get up, smile, and move on. There's nothing for you here anymore. There's no point in staying to fight. Leave.

How do you say goodbye? Two and a half years is long time. When you get used to having him around, when you get used to knowing that he'll always be there no matter what, when you get used to knowing that he's always just a phone call away? What happens then? That last hug, that hesitation to let go, that last intertwining of your fingers. So many lasts. What happens now, now that there's that sense of finality? The knowledge that this is the last time? What happens when something rooted so deep is going to be pulled out, taking a part of you with it?

It's like a slap in your face.

It stings. It hurts. It leaves you dazed. It leaves a mark. It's real. It's a slap in your face.