You think stories ending in cliff
hangers torment people, but the truth
is deciding to abandon the story
with a certain resolve kills everyone.
When someone leaves without a word,
you crave for an answer, —a
valid reason, anything you can be
at peace with, and the element
of surprise bothers our shared
vulnerability —harming out mere hopes
for absolute expectancy. Often it causes
pain, disappointment, anger, and even
rage. You do not sleep with
that. You are completely wide awake;
too vigilant in any other possible
forms of condescending add up.
But soon you’ll get tired like
a man on a cliff on
the coast, too keen in observing
the leaving storm. You must have
to step back to ensure the
collision of the waves that are
sent by the aftermath of the
storm when soften the ground does
not bury you deep to the
landslide. And you will trust that
the storm does not come back
too quickly, so you can start
rebuilding what was ruin. You can
reach where help is needed.
Soon that the storm will come
back, you’re no longer mourning of
what died long before. You’re no
longer seeking for a reason—no
longer asking for an explanation of
why everything unravels beyond your
hands. You walk forth to the
eye of the storm, but you
do not stare at it. You
close your eyes and let it
happen. Let it rain on you,
and flood you again. You embrace
it. You do not push it
away nor force it to leave.
You experience it all over again.
And accept that throughout your life
the storm will revisit you. The
story does not end with just
a stronger wind, and a flooding
rain. The story will, and must
continue even when we decide to
think it was the end.
