I Just Want To Know How Our Story Ends

Becca Tapert

I wouldn’t care for videos on YouTube which stopped and buffered for an eternity. I was not interested in knowing how the video ended. I did not care when there was a technical glitch and I could not see that funny movie which was airing on my favorite channel. I did not even try and rent the DVD of that movie. I was not bothered when I left the movie hall in the interval because I got a call from work. I did not want to know how the heroine died and the levels of love the hero achieved. It did not disturb me in any way, when I sat beside the window watching the rain and I noticed a paper boat float on the puddle but my mother called and I had to go without finding, if the boat drowned in the sewage or continued floating in the tiny puddle outside my window. And worse, I did not bother to check afterwards also.

I thought something was wrong with me but I was not sure. I received clarity on my situation when I was reading my favorite author’s latest book on the subway and I got off the train absent-mindedly, only to realize later that I left the book on the seat in the subway. And the realization brought no sorrows or regrets. I just walked away from my bag I thought the book was in, and snuggled in the bed and slept. I did not care to buy the book again. And it did not bother me that I would not know how the story followed. Next day, I crossed the bookstore on the way to my office and the same book stared at me from the shop window and that’s when it struck me. I no longer crave for a closure. I don’t care if things ended without any explanation or notification. I had habituated myself with abrupt endings. I had accustomed myself to the sudden full stops and was not willing to change it to a comma or a semicolon.

That’s when I realized that I had turned a deep grey and I no longer cared, if I wasn’t a light colored bud with flushing white of innocence and inquisitiveness on my tips. Was it okay to be like this? Will I always be like this? I did not know. And till today, I don’t know the answer to both the questions. I guess we don’t get to answer some questions. We wait and try to find the answer. And trust me, I’m still waiting. But I’m no more a grey now. I think I’m a violet. And maybe tomorrow I’ll be a bright yellow. I don’t think it’s important being a pink with white flush on the tips anymore. But that’s how I have decided to shape my answer to the questions. You can go and most probably, will go on a totally different path and will be a totally different flower. And it’ll be okay.

It always gets okay.
 TC mark

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