Journal, Pen


Lately, I’ve been struggling with self-acceptance. It all happened when I tried to get away from the crowd; the virtual world of outer beauty. Only when I stepped down from the pedestal, when the white spots from dazzling spotlights faded away, I realized how hideous I had become. The mirror of introspection scared me.

In a sentence, growing old is nothing but realizing certain facts and making peace with them. You keep bumping off the walls blindfolded, trying to reach someplace which smells nice, sounds nice. So, I’ve made my mistakes. I’ve spent countless hours regretting what I’d done. I wasn’t equipped to deal with them at the time. Sometimes I feel, I’m not even now.

Again, I’m not here with the solution. I’m not pretending to be a higher power who has seen it all and knows it all. I’m in a process to understand the mechanism of the whole cycle and try to step out of it. So, I’ve been working on closures.

Closure : an act or process of closing something, especially an institution, thoroughfare, or frontier, or of being closed.

Even though we accept the outcome, say rejection or loss or the fact that it was all out fault, we never come out of the circle of grief and misery forever. The term move on is hollow on so many levels. What one must realize is one cannot build a storey on the top of a wrecked one. You have to clear the path; finish the chapter till the end to find all the answers.

What I’ve realized, I need closures, a lot of them. So that I can move on the path of spiritual realization without carrying any bags of unpaid bills from the past.


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