Swan Song

*note: this piece of writing is in no way a final goodbye or anything like that. it’s not supposed to condone self-harm.

If you are self-harming or are thinking of it, please, please talk to someone about it. I’m writing this because I’m

moving to another state and just haven’t told anyone yet. again, it is not in any way, shape, or form of saying

goodbye. I just thought that swan myths and behavior were neat.*

It’s said that swans sing most beautifully right before they die. It’s not true, obviously, swans sound like out of tune trumpets with too big ego’s constantly, but the idea is still there. That right before something is gone is when it’s most beautiful. I think that that much is true, at least. People who commit suicide are often most kind right before their final act, terminally ill people’s last weeks are often the most cherished, and your childhood home never looks better then right before you sell it.

 I wonder if I’m performing my swan song, right here and now. I’m leaving in less then a year, and I’ve never felt more social, more like I’m trying to make up for something that I don’t have. I’m constantly on the phone with friends, doing things I’d normally laugh off, more connected then I’ve ever been. I haven’t told my friends that I’m leaving, and, at first, it was the fear of them trying to rush years of friendships into months, but here I am, doing the exact thing I feared. I’m performing for an audience that doesn’t even know that they’re in a concert hall.

My swan song is a beautiful, twisted, lie of a melody. But, it’s my lie, and I’ll keep it up till I see fit. Every time I have left before, it was a production with big, flashing, letters all spelling out “I’m leaving! I’ll be gone!” But here and then is different. Then, friendships were flimsy, and unstable at best. There were no true boundaries, because children don’t know to create them. Nowadays, I know greed. I pull everyone and everything I care about close, resenting all of the distance between me and them, and yet I’m the one abandoning them. So greedy, and so, so, guilty. So, I’ll perform my last song, my last dance, and maybe that’ll be enough to make up for all the lies I’ve told.

If I am a swan, then Sebastian is the sun. Unreachable, bright, and life-giving. They used to say that I saved them, that if i wasn’t their friend, they’d be alone. I’d laugh, and gently nudge them, saying I’d be the same. But they lied, even if they didn’t know it. They’re so bright, and beautiful, and kind, and everyone knows it. People flock to them like snakes flock to sunlit rocks on chilled days, like worms run to pavement during the rain, like how monarch butterflies flock to the warm trees of mexico. They say that I saved them, but they saved me. They gave me life, purpose, and yet they say the opposite.

I’m truly a swan, and they’re the sun. I try to hold them close, hostile to anyone I don’t know around them. They’re welcoming, bringing everyone they can, like sunlight coaxing children out of their houses on warm spring days. how narcissistic am I, to try to say that I’m important to them, to try and occupy a place in their mind.

They are my soulmate, and I am not theirs. They complete me in a way I can’t describe, and that I don’t want to describe, even if I could. It’s not a romantic way, but it’s still filled with love. The Greeks had a word for it, multiple words even. Philia, the love of deep friendship, and pragma, long standing love. I’ll love them forever, even when they forget my face. Because they were the one to stand by me, through everything. The moments where everything was too overwhelming and lights would burn my eyes, they were there, softly guiding me through the pain. Moments where i felt so touch-starved that I couldn’t remember what physical comfort felt like, they would pull me close, and let me rest.

Sebastian is the sun, and I am a swan. I’ll sing the most beautiful song I can for them, before I leave, and after I’m gone, they’ll still shine on, bringing comfort to all those who need it. And I’ll be okay. Because, after all, a song can only last so long before it’s closing note.