Kyle Bryce-Borthwick | A staggered exit from an anthill
Goodbye means leaving. It means packing everything up, arranging for a destination, shipping half your life and moving on. It means saying goodbye to the many you may leave behind. The hugs, the bittersweet drinks, the lulling affection shared amongst close friends. It is a deliberate act, unavoidable but unquestionably intentional. But it is also a time of reflection, of silent grief. Living in a cloud, knowing that this could be the second-to-last time you go see a midnight showing at Rave Motion Pictures, the last time you got lunch on College Green with Chez Yasmine in hand, the third-to-last wave to a person you met once but cordially acknowledge on Locust Walk. You cannot think about this reality constantly; it would drive you to a state of perpetual longing. But it is worth reflecting on — eventually.