Two syllables. One word. Good-bye. You can say it, prolong it, or even foreplay it, but what you absolutely cannot do, is avoid it. But let's say you do, let's say that in an attempt to be brave (or otherwise), you do try to avoid it, eventually, it's bound to come bite you in places you don't want to be bitten. Because the ironic truth is, there is nothing so good about the inevitable goodbye. Nothing. But then again, nothing is a strong indefinite pronoun. There must be something, anything, or else you wouldn't feel the need to say it, prolong it, or even foreplay it, in the first place.
And yes, something could be anything, whether it's boredom, death, freedom, suffocation, or simply the thought of a better life, if you are willing to cut down on the constant need to sabotage your own happiness that is. And if you really think about it, so hard your brain starts dancing rhythmically on its own, goodbye could easily mean the start of something new, the start of something more fulfilling. Now that goodbye is easy to confront.
The hardest goodbye, on the other hand, is the one you don't say to the blurry familiar silhouette still standing right next to you. The hardest goodbye, if you ask me, is the one currently left unspoken.