I love endings.

Good ones, bad ones, ugly ones, all kinds actually. I love how endings just leave you with no choice but one. For once, you don’t have to choose but just do. It’s all done, and there’s nothing you can do to change things.

The beauty of endings is in the limitation of the situation. Like a calamity. You can pick up what is most important to you and just leave! And when you do, you don’t pause and muse over what you missed out, you’re thankful for being alive and for having the best of what you could have brought along. Endings are such natural calamities; they leave no time, no space for you and your feelings, or your choices. When the time for an ending comes; there is not much left, all you can really do is pack up and leave. Leave someone, someplace, or something.

Most people wonder why we must leave the rest behind, isn’t old gold? Shouldn’t we fight till our last fibre to salvage these things? Possibly. But what’s the point of the ending then? Don’t endings come with the new promise, and anticipation of ‘what’s next’?

I love endings.

When everything is wrapped up nice and tidy, complete with ribbons and bows; whether it ends with a happily ever after or on a battlefield of blood, sweat and tears with a warrior standing over the remains of thousands, the story is complete. It’s good to get rid of that person, place or thing once and for all. (Even if you always loved them and would want them to return…) They allow you to stop, for a change, check your course and start in any other way you would want to. (Maybe even go back to the start.)

Endings are indeed beautiful calamities.

Cuz the beauty of these kinds of things is that they nestle in your imagination, and never really end. You’re subconsciously honing an infinite array of possibilities.

The End?