I talked with him. We had both found ourselves in the same boat, thrown out by our soul mates, drug bouts, and then back to square one in our home town, no job, and seemingly no future. Somehow i thought I’d find myself waiting impatiently for a text from him. He said he was “sure we’ll talk”. I should have been going over that in my head, again and again. But i wasn’t. I remembered his hands, his hair, his lips, but they didn’t make me sad anymore. As a matter of fact, i felt indifferently about them now.
Is this what closure is? I always assumed closure would be huge, it would shake my earth. Instead it came in the form of a dream where he and i were roommates and that was all. I wasnt longing for more, we were comfortable. The end.
I was sitting on the toilet in my best friend’s parent’s house suffering from the previous night’s decision to mix White Zinfandel and pot roast when it came over me like a wave, the season of — had come to an end. It had taken nearly 7 whole months, but i’d made it out on the other side. I assumed he would be my one true love, the one that got away, the one i never got over. Yet there I was, albeit in pain from the roast and wine, feeling lighter with the weight of my feelings for him finally off my shoulders.
Closure isnt an earth shattering realisation at 2 am, it isnt something concrete or evident to everyone around you. Closure will come when you’re trying desperately not to vomit in your best friend’s parent’s house. It will come in the form of a fading thought, in the form of the sunlight through the window. It will be a fleeting moment, but then you’ll know, you’re better. The ache is over. Youre finally free from your own heart.