I’ve never been a big fan of unfinished business. But on the flip, I also despise confrontation. So, it’s an internal struggle of epic proportions when someone ~wrongs me~ and I’m left to decide what to do. Usually, I make like Frozen and let it go. I seethe for a hot minute and then just ignore whatever happened for as long as humanly possible. I’ll write them a letter and never send it, instead opting to throw it in the ocean in a real dramatic gesture. Or I’ll make passive aggressive comments about them, because that’s also a totally healthy and mature way to handle things.
But something changed for me recently. Come February, it was no holds barred. Maybe I listened to “I Don’t Fuck With You” one too many times. Maybe becoming another year older made me care less. Maybe I suffered a minor brain aneurysm. Whatever it was, it had me setting out for closure from situations that were weighing me down. Finally, I had the ovaries to say what was bothering me. And once I did, it made me realize that I should’ve been putting people on blast FOR YEARS. Instead of tormenting myself wondering why things always go wrong, I should’ve simply acted like a grown woman. What a concept!
Some people don’t care much for closure, but I’m just not one of those people. I probably have an unnecessarily optimistic view about the entire thing, actually. As if closure is this magical cure to hurt feelings. It might be because I don’t see it as a close; I rather see it as a continuance. A second chance at making something right between two people. Or at the very least, just making things right with myself.