Half-conceived closure and half-baked grief

Closures are painful portals of new beginnings. They tumble you in the spin cycle of the emotional washing machine and wring you into this battered yet somewhat new existence. Closures are tough, unpredictable and often ugly. When done right, they can be be helpful for emotional growth and healing. When done wrong, they lead to wreckage and devastation. When missed, they become powerful anomalies. 

The closure that evades time sits and becomes powerful in its tiny form. It condenses so much energy and emotion in its little space that it goes undetected until it's approached. It has now become massive and as all of its mass exerts this fiery pull on everything that exists in my emotional realm, I burn in its ever-expansive zone of influence. It gains energy, momentum and destroys what it contained in its tiny form, way before it was touched. 

The pain it brings feels right. I mourned what was destroyed long time ago and I grieve again. But grief is even more unpredictable than closures. Sometimes, they overlap and sometimes they snap at each other. Grief is painfully beautiful because at its center, it always has lost love. Loss that can be manifested in so many different ways. It tears you apart and leaves you empty. The lost love fills that emptiness and makes you very aware of what it has become. Sometimes, it gives one closure, sometimes it only leaves behind pain, most times it fills you with memories of beautiful times that no longer exist. The hurt it brings remains unpredictable in its own predictable way. As someone has quoted - grief comes in waves; when it first starts the waves are tall and they drown you and you have nothing to hold on to because you are sinking. As they become more frequent and maybe a little less tall, you still get consumed by them but you learn how to swim. You will never be not consumed, or be able to predict when they are coming but you grow accustomed to their presence. I would never want them to stop because they bring me love, memories and a piece of myself that I feel is being lost bit by bit due to the waves, tsunamis and all the storms I have weathered. Closures are not always required when grief evolves into something beautiful. The grief stays with you and becomes a part of you; you need to remember though that you can't forever be defined only by your grief. Even if it feels that way. Even when the fog starts lifting and it starts to feel that it is the easy thing to do. Who would have thought that becoming my own grief will present itself as the easier option. I am swimming in this grief now, I have lived in it for so long that it has become mine as I have become its. 

In the face of drowning grief, half-baked grief doesn't appear as intimidating. But one shall remember that those are birthed from half-conceived closures. Closures that sit with time and get condensed, and then explode. Their small spatial existence fools a seasoned griever and as they explode, the ocean of grief meets dark waters that one can't learn to swim in. The illusion of such grief is that it has appeared before and convinced me that I have learned to navigate it. Then it sat in its corner in my heart. I thought it was a beautiful memory of the past that spills as pain and tears every so often. But it was just getting crushed into singularity under its own weight of lost love, lies, trauma and desperation. And with the slightest disturbance into the outer realm of its influence, it sucked me into its darkness now stretching me through faint memories and visions from the past that have become distorted with time. 

I wish I could have detected the lies, yours and mine. Yours - so that I could avoid the explosion of everything I knew to be a sacred promise. Mine - so that I could stop believing that I have suffered and loved enough to have the courage to let go. I let the half-baked grief drown me and then I resurfaced, believing I have survived well. I let the half-baked grief and the lack of closure fill my life like the ocean is filled with deep, scary waters under the beautiful blues. And now after being churned for years, without my knowledge, it's draining fast and taking all of my existing pieces with it in a violent tsunami. I am feeling empty and overwhelmed simultaneously. A void and a crushing mass of this black hole of love - all together in my little dead heart that cries for simpler times of sacred promises. 

Time has really been my biggest nemesis. All my downfalls, grief and pain - half and full baked - have always been ill-timed. The peculiar timings of painful events give my life the edginess that keeps the drama of my miserable existence alive. I touched a snow globe of memories to be sucked into darkness while expecting a closure with smiles and hugs. And my naivety amuses my depression. 

I have been a recipient of extreme love and extreme hatred in the same realm of misunderstood actions and miscommunication of silent, half-baked grief. Maybe it is this intense hate that has come back to haunt me. Maybe because you think I deserve it. Maybe because I can't turn back time. Maybe we aren't that different after all. Just sad and pathetic overthinkers who couldn't take a leap, caught in the web that we created for our respective lives to evade reality. That extreme love in two hearts soared in a hot supernova that burned so bright back in the day that it still blinds me til I bleed from my heart. But love is really never enough. It sits and condenses into pain. Your extreme hate and my extreme rage just drowned all we knew about each other and ourselves into this half-baked grieving ocean of dark waters. 

This futile closure could never be birthed from its poorly planned half-conception. How could we trust that we will see it through when we couldn't see through the promise that preceded it and began it all? Helpless pain wrapped in lies and broken promises that soothe the soul return now with the same fate that has sealed us into non-existence and fear.

And I sit here wiser and barely together, broken further into too many pieces to blame anyone, too ashamed of my own sad optimism towards this unachievable closure of a black hole of grief and suffering. Tears and courage, smiles and distressing sharp pains, longing and disappearances - all push me to ask myself that if I can remove the foundation of these dark waters from everything that I have built on top of it, would I still have me in a shape that I can recognize or will I be lost forever in the darkness. 

It is my time to suffer again. I pay for my decisions and your wrongdoing, for not believing, for not being able to keep you believing enough, for paying the hefty cost of wreckage and success while you were nowhere to be found, for trying to let go, for not being courageous enough, for not defending the blame of indifference, for not proving my love. And this singularity has all of that and more crushed into what consumes me. If I survive this pain, maybe you will recognize this love even less than you did before- if you come back around. 

And once again, the things that I owned end up owning me.