A letter youll never send

Dear Aditya,

Isn't it funny?

How we chase that feeling of closure, hoping it will calm our minds and finally give us a sense of "the end"? We've all been there, waiting for that one last conversation, a proper goodbye, thinking it'll magically make everything fall into place. But sometimes, closure is like an unsent letter. It just hangs there, unfinished.

You know, back in my early 20s, I went through a pretty tough time when my girlfriend just disappeared from my life. One day, everything was fine, and the next, she completely ghosted me. I was left in this confusing limbo, endlessly wondering what went wrong.

After a couple of months of that emotional torment, my two friends and I decided to go on a wild trip to shake things up a bit. One night, we found ourselves at this breathtaking waterfall. It was freezing, but I thought, "Why not?" So, I took a leap into the icy water at 2 AM. That moment felt like pure magic, a release from all the chaos and confusion I had been carrying. It was like the water washed away all the worries about her and what could have been.

Then, about six or seven months later, she unexpectedly showed up at my doorstep. I was surprised, but here's the thing: I didn't feel angry or hurt anymore. I had already found my closure on my own. It was a big moment for me, understanding that sometimes, closure comes from within, not from someone else.

In her book Option B, Sheryl Sandberg talks about how we often look for closure to avoid discomfort or pain. But what if, instead of expecting a perfect end, we learned to live with a few loose ends? After all, life isn't a movie where everything wraps up perfectly.

Indian mythology also offers some perspective here. Take the story of Karna from the Mahabharata. He was a warrior born into a life of conflict, abandoned at birth, and torn between loyalties. His story didn't end with a neatly tied bow, but that didn't make it any less heroic or meaningful.

So, what do we do with all the unfinished business that lives in our heads? Maybe, instead of forcing things to end neatly, we just let them be. The world doesn't owe us perfect endings.

If there's something that's been lingering in your mind, what would it feel like to simply allow it to remain unfinished?

I truly believe that writing can be a kind of release. Here's a simple idea to try:

Write a "Letter You'll Never Send"
Write to the person involved in this unfinished chapter (or even to yourself). Just let it all out, say everything you've wanted to say.
The goal isn't to actually send the letter. It's about processing your emotions, letting your thoughts out, and finding a way to move on.

What do you say? Give it a try. You might find that it brings you a sense of peace, even without "closure."

In fratitude,
adi