Fare thee well

I am quitting again, or, in more accurate words, I am again saying farewell.

Fare thee well. Fare well. Farewell. Goodbye. Colloquially, it is said by or to someone who departs, and it is a wishing well of someone in their travels, implicitly in a direction different from one you are taking or from where you are staying. It is said by and/or to one who will go away in a different land (whether metaphorically or topographically), or by and/or on whom you do not wish ill when you part ways. There is movement in that word, a movement to and from, which are in, by the demands of the word itself, different if not opposite directions.

There is something strange about farewells.

It is a cutting off: goodbye, we might not see each other again, we will end here.

It is, however, also a well-wishing: fare well, we might not see each other again, but in your future endeavors, I wish you good happenings.

It is a schizophrenic word and concept, for in its very utterance there is a different topography instituted, one of possibilities of future happenings without you, but simultaneously an evocation of a spirit of a withness that accompanies every wish in the very act of severing this withness.

It is as such a bastard of a word, one which by all rights should have no rights at all to a future, good- or ill-wished. By all demands it should be a death, but it is stubborn in its persistence, in its non-death: fare well, I will not be with you, but let no harm befall you while I stay gone.

In other words, a farewell always already overreaches every time it is said. It cannot help but to.

As such it shares in this overreach the same nature of a promise. A promise is always a promise made with forever in mind, in exactly the opposite manner a farewell has forever in mind. I will stay gone, but fare well, in this time that I am gone. I will end this here, but you should not end. Promise me that you will not end here, because I in turn promise that I will not end here.

Because it speaks of an end to a relation, it is a death. But because it wishes (because it cannot help but wish) then it overreaches itself and says: you better stay alive, even when I am not here. Or because I am not here.

It is a strange word full of contradictory hermeneutic co-habitations, one that, by all that is right, should not be said in order for it to be truly a goodbye, but must be said, in order for it to fare at all.

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