True departures are those that come in the night, with no explanation or excuse; they are those that tear it from you in one great sweep of the hand. True departures are those that leave you open and raw and bleeding from some unseen force.
This, on the other hand--this is calculated, this is announced, this is the thread slowly unravelled from your breast and held aloft over oceans and tempests.
Perhaps, then, such a departure is not a true parting at all?
And perhaps that's why I feel the pain, too.
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