Closure As A Means To Life

I knew a girl once who fell in love with a guy in her school. About her age, probably just a year older. 

It was her first love, and it gave her all the things first love gives people. She believed he loved her, with the way he spoke to her. With the way he was simply there for her whenever she needed him. 

There was one clog in this seamless flow of back-and-forth love — he wanted sex, badly. She wasn’t willing to give him. She was young, about 18, and had never had it before with anyone else. 

He asked her long enough for her to believe he deserved. “If it was going to be with anyone, it had to be him.”

So one day, she invites him over, and they make love. In those sighing and panting moments, she felt even more in love with him. Days passed, and she could literally feel the love growing inside her, the way an expectant mother would feel. 

The love was taking a life of it’s own, consuming her and driving her down the road of complete obsession. 

Then slowly, her lover starts to pull away. She notices it in the little things, like how he would always be busy, or sleeping. How he always told her he had stuff to do. 

One morning, she woke up and realised that the guy she was in love it was no longer interested in her. She asked herself what she had done. She called him, apologising for whatever it is she had done.

“No, no you didn’t do anything.”

She doesn’t believe. She’s so sure she did something wrong, that she goes over to his place to apologise. That’s when he tells her.

“I’m not sure I can do this anymore,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

It is then she realises that he didn’t love her anymore. This was three months after she saw the first signs. Three months of self-blame, and sleepless nights, and limbo. 

Let’s talk about limbo. Limbo is the waiting, the not-coming or not-going. Limbo is stagnancy. When water is stagnant, it starts to smell. When engines gears are left un-worked, they start to rust. When a sick person is left on his back for too long without movement, his blood vessels start to collapse. 

Limbo is a form of death. Arsenic in very small doses is still poisonous, but when administered long enough, one final dose will be all it will take. 

You know what the hardest part was for the parents of the Chibok girls that were kidnapped by Boko Haram? It was that they didn’t know whether to mourn their daughters or to wait for their return. 

The end of the road for limbo is closure. Closure makes us move on with our lives. We wait for the feedback on the job interview, and hate the ones who never even call back to tell you that you didn’t get the job. 

When #hurtbae went viral on Twitter, people saw a man who cheated on his girlfriend multiple times. Others saw a girl who was still so in love with him. 

Me? I saw a girl looking for closure, because limbo is an enemy of life. 

Whatever it is that is lingering in your heart, and tying you down, I hope you find closure, so you can live.

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