A farewell that was not accompanied by words. No greetings, no hugs, just a silence that slowly turned into distance. I once called you home, a place I returned to with hope. But now, I learn that not everyone we love will stay.
Some people come into our lives only to teach us how to let go. I don’t know who wrote it first, but that sentence feels like mine now—born from an understanding that has just grown within the wound.
You left, and I didn’t hold you back. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew: forcing you to stay would only make you want to leave more. So I chose silence, letting you drift as far away as you wished.
I no longer wait for news, no longer hope for a greeting. This longing remains, but I learn to soothe it. I learn that not every wound needs to be announced. Regarding the pain, let it be my own business—a line born from long nights you never knew.
And about your happiness…
I don’t want to know.
Not because I hate you,
but because I know, if I knew, I would ask again:
why wasn’t it me?
I remember a repost you once shared, I don’t know from whom:
“May your happiness never be known to me by any coincidence.”
I only read it then. Now I understand it.
There is a part of me that still wants to know, still wants to hope. But I learn that hope that is not guarded can turn into poison. So I choose boundaries. Not for hating, but for surviving.
As Rupi Kaur once wrote, “Sometimes, loving means letting someone go without resentment.”
That sentence feels more real now than ever before.
This farewell is not about who was wrong. It is about two people who once chose each other, then stopped. I do not regret ever loving you. But I will also not force myself to keep hoping.
Goodbye, the person who used to be home.
May this distance be enough for us to learn:
that love does not always mean togetherness.
And if one day you read this,
remember one repost you once shared, and which I now comprehend:
“Farewell, my favorite person. Go into the loneliest exile.”
✍️ About the Author
Qhairull is a reflective writer and visual storyteller who transforms emotional journeys into poetry, narratives, and video content. He believes that even silence can speak, and that a wound can be the most honest learning space.
Author’s Note:
This essay was inspired by the story of a close friend who was going through a heartbreaking breakup. This work was written as an effort to explore themes of mature letting go and is planned for publication on Medium and Karyakarsa.
