There’s an art to leaving. Not just the casual “I think I’ll head out now” kind of leaving, but the full-scale, burn-the-bridges-and-salt-the-earth kind. The kind that says, I was here, I saw enough, and now I’m fucking off into the sunset, never to return.
The problem? Most people don’t know how to truly fuck off. They hesitate. They linger in doorways. They peek back over their shoulders like some tragic main character in a shitty indie film. They whisper, Maybe I should give it one more shot, even when every possible sign—written in bold, blinking neon—screams, FUCKING RUN.
And that’s where the real skill comes in. The fine, delicate, yet entirely necessary art of fucking off, completely, permanently, and with just the right amount of flair.
Step One: Recognize the Moment to Leave
If something—or someone—is draining your joy, your energy, or your will to live, that’s your cue. No need for deep reflection. No need for a pros and cons list. Just go.
If it makes you cry, question your sanity, or draft long texts you’ll never send, it’s already over. The only question is whether you leave now or waste another six months proving to yourself why you should have done it sooner.
Step Two: Keep Fucking Off
Leaving is easy. Staying gone is the hard part. That’s where people fuck it up. They take a few steps away and then, like a badly written horror movie, they hear something behind them. Spoiler alert: It’s nothing. Just old habits, misplaced nostalgia, and an ego that’s still waiting for an apology that will never come.
So keep walking. Keep fucking off. If a metaphorical fence blocks your way, climb it. If there’s a “No Fucking Off Past This Point” sign, take it as a challenge. If someone says, “I miss you”, remember: They don’t miss you, they miss their access to you.
Step Three: Become a Fucking Myth
One day, someone will bring up your name in a room full of people who thought they knew you. “I wonder what happened to them,” they’ll say. Someone else will shrug. “They just fucked off one day and never came back.”
And that, my friends, is the goal.
To be the ghost of a place that no longer deserves you. To be the whisper in the wind, the legend, the Did they die or just move to another continent? mystery. To be so fucking gone that even time itself struggles to remember the last place you stood.
Step Four: Keep Fucking Off Forever
And the final trick? You never stop. Never pause long enough to reconsider. Once you’ve fucked off, you stay fucked off. Because nothing ahead of you will ever be as suffocating, small, or limiting as what you left behind.
So go. Climb the metaphorical gate, dream the impossible dream, and keep fucking
Because if you’re going to fuck off, you might as well do it with style.
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