Endings Make Me Nervous.

The love and hate of cutting things off that aren't meant for you.

I was never a reader when I was younger. I remember a family member got me a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone when I was in middle school and it ended up sitting on my bookshelf collecting layers of dust for years. So many people tried to get me into reading, all of my English teachers displayed a new book of the month we would be studying and instead of submitting to their wishes, I looked up summaries and pretended to be interested in the themes of family or love. My essays were perfectly crafted lies of worship for the novel and they consisted of quotes I found on a Quora thread. But then something shifted in me when I didn’t feel like books were being shoved down my throat at any opportunity. My friends would want to go to Barnes and Noble as an activity and instead of finding myself browsing the journals they kept on the bottom floor, I was up in the romance section scoping out names and titles I found even an inkling of interest in. The first book I read from start to finish on my own was Looking for Alaska by John Green and that was the breakthrough.

While I continued my journey of discovering that reading had more to offer than a snooze fest of words, I realized something really important within myself. I hated the endings. I hated when things would wrap up in a way I didn’t see for it. I hated when characters would die off or have a character archs made for a sequel. I hated when there were cheesy lines we were supposed to swoon over that were witty and fascinating. It didn't matter the quality of the text or the story as a whole, I despised whatever ending came into fruition. I still do. And this had me stumped for a long time. Why is it that I could fall in love with the plot and be so emotionally attached to the characters but when it came down to the final pages I couldn’t handle it? Why is it that when I was 50 pages from the back cover I would shelf the book and not pick it up again until I was physically and mentally ready? Well as I’ve come to reflect now, this directly translated into my own life too.

Maybe it’s my attachment issues or maybe it’s my anxiety that I find hard to handle at times. But regardless of what’s to blame, the one thing that’s always been consistent is that telling myself that something is done and over with is petrifying. My brain is wired in a way where I am scared of people leaving and when it comes time, I have trouble ending contact. All of my friendships have never been a clean cut off. It’s always been ‘hey’ texts over and over again and re-catching up to make sure they’re ok. Even if they didn’t put in any effort to get to know the new me, the version they didn’t even know anymore, I still asked them questions and had to know everything they’ve done since we’ve last talked. I might just hate myself so much that I willingly allow myself to suffer but I don’t think that’s true. I think I just care way too much for people for my own good.

I’ve always thought of myself as blunt, open, stubborn, filled with love, and way too emotionally expressive. I’ve trained myself over the years to take a back-seat and not open myself up immediately to new people out of desperation. It was a need to keep myself guarded because in my head, the more people knew, the more they were going to hurt me. I struggle to pick up my phone when I’m not doing ok because every issue is too small for my reaction and ‘who would I call anyway’? It’s toxic and it’s no one’s fault but my own. I’ve learned to self-soothe thanks to my most recent therapist from 2 years ago. But it gets to a point where people begin to perceive me as in-genuine just because when they’re sharing their extensive trauma and laying their heart on the table right in front of me, I rarely have anything to share with them in return. I’ve lost a lot of great people because of this. I’ve lost a lot of good potential friendships from having a wall up in between their bubbly and all-telling personalities and mine.

So even though there’s enough reasons to go my separate ways with people who’ve hurt me extensively and in ways I can’t come back from, I still have enough of a heart to begin again. I could live my life happily oblivious to the trauma and fights of the past but I choose to keep bringing them up on random nights every week when I’m bored and alone. I don’t see this as a weakness within me. I whole-heartedly believe that there’s nothing wrong with me or my brain because of this. I just think there’s certain situations where this doesn’t work. I think that’s why I’m so open here. I love how much we all adore each other and our art. I love when people do the same so in turn I pour myself into my writing and leave people on read in real life.

With people I’m really close with, I am the best version of myself. I’m giggly and funny and deep and loving. I may have my flaws like we all do but at my core I really really like really care about people on the deepest level. I’ve always been that person that people feel they can call when they don’t have anyone else. I’ve always been a good listener and a good problem solver. I’ve been a therapist, a friend, a last resort, and a home. People often feel like they have this access to me at all times for their problems and ramblings and confessions. I’m a secret keeper but I’m also that dress from 4 years ago that sits in the back of your closet that you forgot existed. I’m the vegetables in the fridge that you bought weeks ago that are slowly wilting and will most likely never see the light again. But still I keep a smile and a laugh that makes you think everything’s ok and that I’m not going home and crawling into the black hole that is my bed spread.

So I hate endings and I hate being taken advantage of and I hate when I can’t have the same access to people that would make our connection mutual. Regardless of how sad and maybe depressing reading this might be, I’m great at taking care of myself. I am the person for me that I wish others would be. I make sure I’m happy and fulfilled, I make sure I’m being the best version of myself I can be. I tell myself that sometimes I have off days and I make sure I apologize for all of my wrong-doings. I think that a part of growing up especially when you’re my age is forgiving. I forgive myself and others for the moments when we’re not our best. I realize when we’re projecting or angry at the world not the other person. I forgive and I see the best in people always. Do I get taken advantage of? Sure, don’t we all. But will that change who I am and the person I want to be? Not at all and if anything in the smartest way possible that makes sense within my life. I love the humanity of it.