Endings

I hate endings.

That’s one thing in my adult life that I haven’t mastered how to cope with yet.

Everything ends.

Nothing lasts forever. Not even life itself.

We lose people, whether by choice or force or happenstance.

Yet it’s still this elusive skill I cannot grasp.

Even when it’s necessary.

Even when the lights are blaring bright red flags glaring, I hate to let people go.

Even when it makes sense.

It feels like my entire being is being ripped to shreds.

Maybe it’s the fear of abandonment. Fear of rejection.

Me projecting because I’d never want someone to do the same to me. To remove me from their life. I understand the pain.

So I give chance after chance after chance in hopes that things change. Trying to find any and every way I can “force” them to stay.

Coerce them someway.

Prove myself worthy.

Maybe the more and more I perform I can earn their acceptance.

Make amends and heal what’s broken.

But time and experience have taught me such efforts are hopeless.

Yet why am I still here, closed fist gripping tightly to people, places, things not meant for me.

A little girl lacking certainty I just want something, anything to make some sort of sense.

Lacking control I struggle to take hold and treasure all the remnants.

All the broken pieces that can’t be fixed. Yet I remain hopeful. Even when it hurts like hell to hold on because I’d never let them go. Never give up on them.

Even when I’ve worn myself thin. I try to imagine a life without them and it crushes my very existence.

Even if there’s a lack of reciprocity and my place in their life is meaningless.

I have to admit. I suck at endings.

And I wish it wasn’t like this.