I hate endings. I hate that everything in life is temporary. I hate that once you are finally comfortable with something and in a content routine, it too will come to an end. I hate the feelings that engulf your mind when you know something good is about to be gone. I hate the feeling you get when you know it is the last time that you will ever do something. I hate the idea that your life can completely change after something ends. I hate not knowing where to start after something is over.

I hate endings, but I love the feeling of new beginnings.

I hate saying goodbye. I hate that an eight-letter word holds an uncertain amount of separation between people. I hate that a goodbye may mean you won't ever cross paths with someone again; this happens far too often. I hate that a word can basically tie up an entire mantra of memories, experiences and emotions; good and bad. I hate that goodbye means it is an ending, a parting.

I hate saying goodbye, but I love saying hello for the first time.

I hate the ending of a book, after you have invested yourself into thin paper pages you are left wanting more—for the story to continue. I hate being left with questions and an unsatisfied feeling of wonder and what else. I hate the ending of a relationship when you know you have to part ways after you have both invested time and life with each other. I absolutely hate that nothing lasts forever.

I hate the ending of a book, but I love reading new material that has not yet entered my mind.

Life presents us with endless new beginnings to start, new hellos to say, new books to read, and new people to meet. But ultimately, all good things life come to an end and I hate it.