The whispers will always linger in your mind. They will lurk, seep and haunt you until you are ready to accept them as life's constant background hum. Closure is a funny concept. It refers to the void you were left with being filled, the ache in your being vanishing, the nostalgia being replaced with an exhilaration you feel with someone new.
Yet, those memories exist because they happened. One cannot simply cast them aside as if the moments did not occur, on certain days at certain times. So how does this notion of closure come into effect? Those of us who are frantically searching for it, do we even know in what form it comes in? If it was tangible, I would crush it in my hands just to see how it would feel.
The textbook meaning behind closure is of moving on and no longer wallowing in self pity. Getting over it and finding peace. I suppose it's a nice idea, the passage of time can be viewed as a catalyst... it will forever be a foreign fantasy in my eyes however. The face of hysteria turns towards you every night, as you lay your head down to close yourself off from the world that claims you.
Closure isn't something that will just happen. It may be that the idea of it exists just for others to advise you with. For the sake of giving another individual importance or validity in their words of comfort to you. It may never happen. It could be, that this rhythmic process of finding it - IS the closure in itself.
You take baby steps, every day after you realise all hope is gone. Are those steps not helping you progress to the next stage in your life, where you may allow dust to gather on memories? Those specific memories, you know- the ones you wish you could look back on with whom you made them with. You can't just erase them. They happened so therefore, they can be revisited again - how you visit them and how often then comes into question.
You can accept the circumstances of the situation that shot you into your exasperation, but that doesn't mean you must forget everything that brought you here. The truth is darling, there is no real closure. If gaining it means you can view the world through rose tinted spectacles again, you can keep it.
Behold this myth so wonderfully ambiguous, so beautifully complicated. Where does it end, or must we carry on in its exuberance. For what I ask? To be brought to a standstill with simplistic dreams, to forget what you have learnt in this experience. Do you not wholly understand the risk that you are taking?
You clutch on to a sense of clarity. You succumb in that idle second. You end up leaving the door slightly ajar, you allow the eerie chill in. You, my dear, leave your wounds exposed.
Maybe you were meant to stay broken - and just maybe, that isn't meant to be a bad thing.
S.K.
Shareen K
