beyond the sharks

we are ill equipped to let people in and out of our lives, like we are somehow entitled to permanence.

are we protecting ourselves from people who treat our lives like revolving doors? does this explain the predominant hesitancy we feel when we are presented a faded admission ticket from faces in our past? are we, in the same way, safe guarding ourselves against disappointment (abandonment) by refusing to accept that there are also those heading for the exit? (even if they are doing so unwillingly). 

what is it about the words i'm leaving that makes don't go rise like bile in our throats? do we mean it? do we need to establish this need for permanence so as to vocalize our fear of abandonment, because we know the decision has been made and the statement was made with finality? do we swallow these same words because we know they are futile? because we are expected to make an effort to preserve what makes us comfortable? this interaction is nothing but selfishness, colored only by an emotional script. 

we are taught change is inevitable, taught to except it and simultaneously taught that it sucks. do we say don't go because it embodies the suck? or is it a half hearted attempt at denial? and are we ever really prepared for an answer to our don't go? what if they don't go? or what if they had no idea you didn't want them to go until they announced they were leaving? and what if you choke back the don't go so they are none the wiser? you are still left with the salience of wanting to say ..

..or what if they come back later. after the don't go has been swallowed, digested, and left to churn in an emotional recess. how do you regurgitate don't go yet alone turn it into welcome back? is this so hard because we are protecting ourselves from future, inevitable abandonment? or is it because time and experience make strangers of everyone no matter how sincere or over due the welcome back truly is?