Goodbyes are contagious, I always say. Once someone in the group shows his intentions of leaving, say, after long hours of chat, others would surely follow suit. Once someone in the group shows motive of going home right after school or work, not just one, but a group would leave together, even if hanging out was what they previously agreed upon. It seems that some dynamic force is behind goodbyes that make people leave all at the same time, but knowing that they will be back---that they are not going away for real, for good---makes these goodbyes even reassuring---of their coming back.

But, as the cliche goes, things change. There is no other way but forward, and that may mean having to say goodbyes. No matter how long or how strong the bonds have become, some people simply have to move away. Some people need a break. Some people need time to heal. Some people drift apart, while others, as I have said, simply go away.

I place no blame on those who decide to leave, or have to leave. Being at the brink of introversion myself, I have an inkling on how solitude becomes a gift to some people. It cannot be avoided that we get hurt, and sometimes we are in so much pain that we need our own space and time alone, to heal; some may feel that their world is turning so fast that the only way to keep up is to say goodbye for some time; and there are times that one simply needs to be by himself, regardless on which end of the spectrum his emotions lie, and regardless on which side of life's battlefield he is in.

Above all, I believe in humanistic existentialism. Who am I to stop you from what you want to do? I am a friend, a brother, a block mate, a leader, a colleague, and a son who guides, and only I guide. I am not here to shape your destiny. It is nobody's task but yours. It's your purpose, that which gives light to the never-ending queries about the here and the now---to shape your own future, your destiny.

Goodbyes may be painful, but they are not always directed to inflict pain. It is brave to go away when staying could only hurt not just one's self but especially others. It is wise to simply retreat to the shadows if staying into the light would only bring more confusion that what already is there. Saying goodbye itself may hurt, but the sincere purpose in doing transcends it into an act of courage and wisdom.

I don't expect everything to stay the same all throughout this lifetime. No matter how much we want things to stay the way they are now, the world is never stagnant. It moves forward, and I understand that. I also understand that people need time for themselves. Nevertheless, I believe it is never wrong to feel deeply sad---for the looming loss, for the broken vows, and, in one case, for the final bows of goodbye. The feelings of sadness and loss are experiences that even the broadest of minds and the widest of all understanding cannot take away.

Now that I'm done, give me a moment to mourn.

A person who writes---whether a writer or a mere person who does---has always been regarded as a man of words. He has the power to string ideas together and communicate them across with the written art. He knows just the exact way to sweep his pen to channel the profound constructs wanting to leave the hard and multilevel layers of his mind.

But today, the Master of Self-Portrait is speechless. He doesn't know what to say, not because he is stupefied by the discoveries he just heard, but because his ideas about them are eccentric. so eccentric to the point that they may be regarded as trash, taboo, insensitive, or destructive. Nevertheless, the Master of Self-Portrait will be trying to say them, since having a stand is now more of an obligation than a simple side comment.

Writing and I were once inseparable. I remember the time when I was just flirting with the written art, how it transformed into a hobby, elevated to a vocation, and then finally, transcended to an almost eternal bond like no other. I was never MOSelf-Portrait without the tag, "the writer": Who's that guy wearing eyeglasses? "MOSelf-Portrait , the writer." You know MOSelf-Portrait ? "We're friends. He's a writer." I saw your son late last night. "Oh yes. He came home late because of some writing business."

It was perhaps because of this that I regressed into a mere person who writes. The bond between me and writing had become so powerful that we could no longer be separated. Caught in an intricate web with what I once almost considered as my passion, writing did not just become a vital part of my being. It took over, and it became the only aspect of me that people can see.

I wouldn't say I lost my identity from writing, because I had no identity to lose prior to our bond in the first place. I was no one but Mother's highly obedient son. Writing, then, became the facade that I should be establishing myself and not provided by writing. I was a writer, yes; but people never knew me as MOSelf-Portrait.

This is perhaps the factor that precipitated my reversion to a mere person who writes. Perhaps, in the attempt to establish an identity I can truly call my own, severing ties with the publications I was affiliated with back then became the plausible move to do.

It's been almost ten months since I regressed from being a writer to a mere person who writes. The motivation to uncap my pen has not been significant ever since, but, in some ways, writing has a way of coming back to me.

The weekly experimental lab reports I write. A friend's task designation to blog about the first overnight party our circle had, though in collaboration with another friend. And, of course, the cherry that tops them all---the recognition that I did well: pats on the back, blog comments, and perfect lab report scores. I have to admit that I missed this feeling. It's been quite a while.

I am not closing my doors from reestablishing the writer in me, but for now, I am very much happy with being a mere person who writes. We'll see where my Muses will bring me and my pen in the future, but if they do decide to settle here and take no greater heights with us, I believe I won't be complaining.

You've probably heard of me before. If yes, then welcome back. If no, then join me as I travel back and forth in time as I narrate the stories of the