I’ve been thinking a lot about what closure feels like.
In theory (keyword: theory), I should have experienced my fair share. I’ve ended relationships with three serious boyfriends. I’ve graduated high school, had friendships and other significant acquaintances end. I know what it is to say goodbye for the last time. I know what it’s like to watch the door close on chapters in my life with a sense of finality, knowing that they can’t, they shouldn’t be revisited.
Is there really finality in anything? Is there really closure? Can a war end with no casualties? Because I’m starting to think I don’t understand the word, or the concept. Because to me, closure feels like accepting something, good or bad, as done. It’s acknowledging the end of a story. It means closing the book. And maybe it’s just me, or just me right now, but I can’t stop reading the last few words of this chapter. I haven’t put the book down yet.
Because all I can think, all I am trying to remember right now is that I know everything is for the better. As it stands, everything in my life, every circumstance, no matter how much certain thoughts ache me down to the bone, I know that everything is the best it possibly could be right now. We do not belong together, I know that with certainty. We are better apart. We are better without the “we”. And it took me a long time to realize, to admit, to acknowledge. And everything is fine. You’re fine, and I’m fine. And I wake up every morning and snooze my alarm twice, and I re-watch episodes of Friends while making breakfast, and I read my books on the train and buy an extra coffee even though I say I won’t, and I’ve kept on living. And so have you.
But I can’t help but know that despite living in the peaceful epilogue of the star-crossed tragedy we never thought we would be, the calm after the storm- that look on your face will keep me from closure. That look. The one you would always give me when I said something that surprised you. When you would meet me in the hallway, on the bus “by chance”. When we walked until the early hours of the morning and I told you I was crazy and you told me I was wonderful. And those ended up being the words to describe us. A crazy, wonderful impending disaster.
I loved you. A part of me still loves you. And I would recognize your gaze on a stranger’s face because I spent the better half of our time together memorizing every line in your smile, every telling look in your eyes. So I will always know that look, but now I can’t stand it because I know that when I see that smirk again, that look in your eyes, it won’t be because of me.
Because you’re going to fall in love without me.
And I want so badly to hate you. With every thought in my head, every drop of blood in my body, with every breath I take I want with all my heart the thought of you to fill me with spite, with anger, with pure, blind rage. Hating you, feeling wronged by you, dismissing what we had, what you’ll have with someone else- anything would be so much easier than this. Because I want you to be happy. More than anything in the world. But you’re going to fall in love without me.
And I really hope you do.