It has a certain type of beauty, the endings — with a portion of pain, and a portion of comfort. While it frees you from the ugly things, it also frees you from the most beautiful ones. That’s probably its main point, though: freedom — freedom from the good and the bad, from the truths and lies, from encouragements and complaints. In endings, sometimes we get more than what we ask for; sometimes we lose more than what we posses. It’s either a prize we get, or a price we pay.
I am not sure of the freedom that the endings offer is absolute, but what I know is that it doesn’t necessarily “open new doors and new beginnings”. No. Endings are endings. Whether planned or simply inevitable, they are not magical keys that would open magical doors towards magical lands.
Endings are endings. No more euphemizing it. Ending sometimes means closing a book, shutting a door, turning to a different direction and taking a different path – for good. Planned or not, I think it is just logical to take the ending at its face value: you no longer hold something you used to have. Something has ended. Something is lost. Something is now officially buried in the past. I am not saying that it’s good, and I definitely am not saying that it’s bad. It’s up to us to decide.
What I am sure, though, is that there is beauty in endings. Isn’t it why millions of songs were written about it, why poets and painters look at it and see a perfect subject of art, why lovers go through it over and over and over again?
I do not exactly know why, but maybe because it can make a person completely full or empty of thoughts and emotions. Maybe, because it can be so filled with vibrant colors, or simply be the darkness. Maybe, because of its totality. Or maybe, because it reminds us of something we subconsciously try forget: that, at some point in our lives, we will certainly lose both the things that we value, and those that we despise.