Closure

In your mind you’ve got a bat and you go around the house, systematically smashing everything they left behind to bits. In reality, you know how much those things cost and maybe you’re cheap a coward, but you just don’t have the heart to do it. So you start to think about other ways, how to rid yourself of the hard lump that has lodged itself in your chest, threatening to stay there forever.

You think packing their stuff in a solitary box, to be left at their door -or to be handed over in a brief clandestine meeting- will do it.
It doesn’t.

Neither does burning.
All you’re left with is the acrid smell of smoke and a dark ring on your balcony…the shape and size of the cardboard box that was there 5 minutes ago.

If there’s no catharsis in tearing up their old notes, then deleting their texts, emails, pictures off your Instagram, their number…does less.

You wonder if there’s truth to the myth that a good scream can let it all out. So you try it. One day when it’s just you and the four walls of the house. You scream yourself hoarse. Then you wait for all the pain to evaporate.
It doesn’t.
When people ask what happened to your voice, you don’t have an answer prepared.

You get a tub of ice cream. You’ve always loved Ben & Jerry’s. You rent a movie. You don’t forget the box of tissues. You’re in your most comfy pyjamas. You dig in. The movie works its magic. You bawl your eyes out.
NOTHING.

Then you start to think. Maybe hearing why will make it better. To know the reason, even if it’s some fundamentally flawed aspect of your character, should be better than nothing.
So you set it up. Steel yourself for what you know is likely to be brutal. You sit through the small talk, willing them to get on with it. When they finally seem ready to, you sit up. Coffee/ tea/ liquor whatever form of dutch courage is your poison in hand. You listen intently, waiting for the one thing you can pinpoint and say “Aha! This is why.” But other than a series of half-truths and patronising lies meant to make you take the blame for their shortcomings and/ or feel like the one that got away, there is resoundingly…
NOTHING.

Now you’re worried, is this how it’s going to be forever? A hard lump stuck in your chest, freezing your insides so you don’t even have the patience to deal with anyone new?
Maybe you’ve just been a fool, buying into the myth of a reason setting you free. Maybe at the end of the day, that’s all closure really is, a myth sold to romantic fools.

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