The difficulty of saying goodbye.

I’m not dead.

Surprise. Ha.

(For myself, most of all.)


But seriously. You know how most people with social anxiety and the like say that saying ‘hello’ to someone you don’t (really) know is hard? Starting a conversation is one of the biggest triggers for panic attacks?

It certainly is true. It’s quite hard for me too.

But the even harder part? Saying goodbye to someone you love or have grown to like. (For example after a conversation.)

What I’m talking about?

On January 2nd one of my bestest friends ever came to visit me! He’s the one currently living in Berlin because he’s at uni, so I rarely see him. Only when he comes home, actually. Because you all know that I don’t have the money to buy train or plane tickets every other day. Sadly. But hey, I take what I can get. Even if it’s just for a few hours.

So we laughed, we talked, we got serious. Then laughed again.

[I never ever take a person in my life for granted. And every minute, second, I get to spend with my friends is something special. Even if I just see them driving past me. Even if it’s just a shared smile or wave.]

But then, of course, it was time for him to leave.

And I will never get used to that feeling. Never.

Saying goodbye. See him leave.

It tears me apart.



Then January 4th came. One year since my great-grandma passed away. Worst day in a while.

But I had something to look forward to! I was going to meet my long-time friend Mel for the first time in person the very next day! She had been visiting a friend in Nuremberg and asked if I wanted to meet her in Frankfurt on her way back home to Switzerland, so of course I said yes! It wasn’t even a question for me. I was so excited! And only a teenie tiny bit anxious.

And then there she was! It was amazing. And she hugged me! Aww. It was absolutely awesome.

You know that saying that when you finally get what you want or acquire your dreams or whatever that it might be a bit disappointing? Because you exaggerated in your daydreams or made up a surreal scene in your mind?

It wasn’t like that at all. No disappointment.

And hearing her voice… After everything she has been through. I have been through. Wow. Amazing.

I’m not gonna bore you with what we did…because we didn’t really do anything except for having fun in the bookstore and having hot cocoa at starbucks and just talking, but it was awesome.

I mean…I’ve known her for so long and I know a lot about her, but that day was eye-opening.

I didn’t want to let her go.

Which obviously was a problem.

So the closer to her departure time we got, the quieter I became. I don’t know if she even noticed (she was pretty tired). It’s always like that. I guess I’m removing myself from the situation to distance myself from the pain.

But then there we were, on the platform. Me, fidgeting with my hands, shifting from one leg to the other. She, smoking a cigarette.

And there it came, the train to take her away.

We hugged, said goodbye. She got on, found her seat, got settled.

And me? I couldn’t even look at her. I was looking everywhere else. The roof of the train station. The clock. My hands. Everywhere except for her. Maybe she mistook my behaviour for something else.

The truth? I was afraid I was going to cry. I could already feel the tears burning in my eyes. They were threatening to fall.

And then the train started rolling away slowly. I blew a kiss. It made her smile. That made me happy. I waved. And then she was gone.

I noticed I hadn’t breathed in for quite a few moments. Took a deep breath. Had to keep reminding myself to breathe. Yet again.

And when I left the platform, my legs were threatening to give out.

And then the tears were falling.


All the way home I clung to the music in my ears like a lifeline.

And then I almost fell into a coma-like state.

Just woke up a few days ago.


Saying goodbye, to me, is the hardest thing.

Saying goodbye to those two literally threw me off a freaking cliff.


Which explains where I was.

Trying to stitch together a parachute to keep me from shattering into pieces on the rocks.




2 thoughts on “The difficulty of saying goodbye.

  1. Dear Nika,

    I wanted to write that for quite a time now. I wasn’t sure if I should send you an email or write it here as comment, and now … well, I’m just gonna write.

    We’re quite boring, aren’t we? Bookstore and Starbucks. But it was so much fun. I loved it. ❤
    I did not realize you were getting quieter and quieter, no. I guess I was really too tired. Train rides always do that to me.

    I also did not notice that you were looking at anything but me.
    You know why?
    Because I sat there, looking at anything but you. Because I knew if we would look at each other again I would start crying.
    When the train had left the station I began to cry, too. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to say goodbye. I didn't want to be away from you.
    Our friendship is the longest I've ever had. And it was so amazing to meet you at last.
    I understand you so much.
    And I miss you. Every day, I guess. Yeah.
    I have to come to FfM soon again. Very, very soon. Today. Yesterday.
    Damn money. But we will meet again. Promised. And saying goodbye will probably not be getting easier, but be sure it'll always be a 'See you later. Soon'.

    I love you, Nika.

    1. It’s been over a year since you wrote that comment and yet I could only look at it (and approve it for the blog) just now. Maybe because I finally felt strong enough to read it again. But it’s probably because the pain is so very real right now, yet again, having had to let you leave, yet again. Saying goodbye will forever be the hardest part.

      I love you, sweetheart. ❤

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s