"Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending." - Lazurus Long

I remember how I used to cringe at the thought of saying good-bye, as if it was a poisonous utterance potent enough to kill me once it left my mouth. But after years of saying good-bye to countless of cherished faces, I no longer feel the sting or the melancholy stab in my heart. Have I finally become immune to this most singular disease, or am I merely applying medicines of repression and ignorance? Weariness shadows the word "good-bye", like a creature who survives by obtaining nutrient from your peace of mind, and leaves you void of emotions. To approach the art of leaving in a logical sense is preferred by those who squirm under the influence of tears. The mind not only attenuates the forceful effluence of the heart, but it also allows thoughts to segue. I am one of those unfortunate individual. Tears and sentimental partings render me squeamish, and they tend to efface the more important aspect of saying "good-bye" because my attention is busy trying to relax my nerves instead of focusing on my friend's sincerity. I guess all these petty reasons explain why I did not insert myself into the general atmosphere, bittersweet and melancholy, of parting. Now, I would like to think the ideal reason I did not feel sad is due to the fact that my friendships with certain people are beyond "good-bye". Hopefully that is the case for most people.

It takes a lot to render me sentimental enough to shed tears. That is an equivocal trait; one can interpret it as indifference or equanimity.