Parallels And Intersections

 I walked down the same street where I had last met you.  The exact place where I saw you last. And I stopped. There was a  tug at my heart , some degree of sadness but not the multitudes of grief I used to feel. I let go the moment I realized that you valued more the people that were gone than the ones right next to you... I loved you, dearly. But life made a mockery out of me, perhaps because I loved you in vain. I used to write for you, to make you happy. I used to send pictures to you, of all the memories dear to me. But you just loved someone else. You were clueless, you were lost. There were nights I used to cry myself to sleep, thinking that letting go of you would be selfish on my part.  Though you didn't need me for solace, yet I used to feel the guilt. Grappling with my heart, choking me. I knew your story, you knew mine, yet I was deciding to let you go. There were streets and quotes and poems and the clothes I wore when I met you, ev...

Closure. One word. Seven letters. A minuscule, underrated concept that has the capability to deprive you of every possible joy in its absence. Seems quite the fancy word, used in books and movies, eluding the significance this single word holds. For our peace of mind, for our existence. I’ve seen people write about beginnings and endings. I’ve seen people write about love and heart breaks. I’ve seen people talk about growth and falling apart. But nobody talks about closure, the epitome, the intersection area of the Venn diagram of sorrow and joy, the sole entity that can convert your existence from that of grief to happiness, and vice versa. I had never given much thought about how significant and important it is to find closure. I was and am the sort of a person who faces a problem, tries to solve it (rather desperately) to find peace, solves/unable to solve the problem and at the end of it, stops thinking about it, at all. Aren’t we all guilty of shoving al...