Sometimes, I wish life was like a book. Not for the impossible plots and imaginary worlds that help people escape from the daily grind. Not because I’m unhappy with my life even though it lacks vampires, perfect men and beautiful lofts that women my age can seemingly afford in the middle of New York City. I wish life was like a book because books have an end. Yes, I know life has an end too. That’s not the kind of end I’m talking about though.
The end I’m talking about is situational. Books are clear cut. A situation is over when the author wants that situation to be over. Often times, “the end” in a book comes with clear resolutions. There is always a clear end. And when there isn’t, frustration ensues. People demand sequels so they can find out the ending.
In life, some situations have endings. You go into your boss’s office to ask for a raise. He says either yes or no. The end.
You apply to a job. You either get an interview or not. You then either get the job or not. The end.
You follow a recipe, expecting a final product. The end.
Unfortunately, a lot of life’s situations don’t have such clear cut endings. Emotions are usually involved. Choices have to be made. I understand all of this. I understand that life is not black and white. In fact, I’m pretty sure the colors black and white aren’t involved in a lot of life events.
But that fact doesn’t make it less frustrating. Right now, I’m having a hard time coming to grips with “the end.” Especially since the end doesn’t feel like an end. It feels like a lot of unfinished gray area. It feels wrong and confusing. In a way, it feels a bit like tug of war in my brain.
I’m just searching, searching, searching for a resolution. I’m slowly realizing that talking about “the end” won’t help find a resolution. It might help make things clearer (that’s a HUGE might), but it still feels unfinished. Distractions work well too when dealing with an ending of something, but certainly don’t help reach a resolution.
I just don’t know how you know it’s “the end.” Is it when you resignedly sigh and make a choice to accept that it’s the end. Accept the feeling that the end could have been something other than what it is. Accept that maybe there can’t be a clear resolution. Accept the frustration that comes from all the gray.
When do you stop thinking about the alternatives and what ifs and accept that there isn’t a “to be continued”?
“Oh, oh won’t somebody show me that I’m not alone, not alone”