I hate goodbyes.  I hate the damn process; the avoiding of the topic til the last minute, the hugging, the exchangement of 'call me!' or 'email me!", the final wave.  And you'd think that after 16 long years of farewells and departings, it would get easier.  But it doesn't.

It never will.

Have you ever read a book in English or history class that was assigned to you, and you felt like you understood it pretty well?  But when it was time to discuss it in class, your teacher spent an entire class period discussing what the author meant when he was writing or what his perspective was or what point he was trying to make or what goal he felt he was acheving by writing this book or essay or theses.  They think that every character, every chapter, every piece of dialogue has a deeper, hidden meaning, but did it ever occur to them that maybe the author simply felt like writing a book?  Why is it that people feel the need to overanalyze everything, to break down something beautiful so that it's magnificence is gone?

I don't understand people.

So there's this guy...

I know what my greatest flaw is.  It isn't my bossiness, my attitude, my physical appearance, or even my insecurity.

It's my hypocrisy. 
And one day it shall be my demise.