Sang Real Goodbyes

That moment when you realize you don’t feel anything at all toward anybody, and you were just hearing sounds bouncing off the echo chamber inside.

That moment when you realize that you haven’t gone anywhere after all.

That moment when it all comes pouring in like a river that’s burst its dam.

That moment when the roar of the world hushes itself and you realize you’re who you always were.

That moment when a wild wheeling sun rolls through your head on its spokes and you realize it’s only the monuments that have gathered dust.

That moment when you realize your empty shame is the pain the gong feels after being struck.

That moment when you realize there are a thousand-million blades of grass unrolling in your mind, and shooting horizon-ward, toward the sky.

That moment when you realize your bookshop melancholy came from the fact you failed to keep the shelves dusted.

That moment when you realize the pain in your eyes came from polishing the mirror and finally–finally–the sun struck hard.

That moment when you realize there was a little hope, but now there’s no hope at all, and you accept that.

That moment when you realize there’s no need to hurry, because the road meanders forever.

That moment when you realize the rope you were hanging onto was actually a noose.

That moment when you realize pressure makes dust–or diamonds.

That moment when you realize you don’t have to make people see, you don’t have to be anything at all.

That moment of holy moments when you realize that the path is long, but there are gates that are open, and people for you to meet, and a thousand-thousand faces for you to try on.

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