Some endings don't come with closure

I’m sitting here watching the end of LOST for the fourth time, crying like it’s the first. I love this show lol. And I’m angry at it, too — because it never gives you all the answers. It leaves things open, unresolved, unfinished. Maybe that’s why it hits harder tonight. My real life has felt a lot like that lately — wanting closure in places where there just isn’t any.

Maybe that’s why it hit harder tonight.

Because the last few weeks have felt like their own kind of finale — not dramatic, not life‑or‑death, just the quiet kind of ending that still manages to knock the wind out of you.

I’ve lost two friendships in seven months.

Both to situations that felt stupid and preventable.

One fell apart over politics — which still feels ridiculous to say out loud.

The other fell apart over a man who wasn’t worth the emotional calories.

Two smart women making choices that made no sense, and I’ve been so angry I could feel it in my teeth.

And sitting here crying over a TV show I’ve already seen, I realized something:

I’m not just crying about LOST.

I’m crying about loss.

The kind that sneaks up on you.

The kind that feels unfair.

The kind that makes you question why you keep ending up in the same emotional neighborhood.

And here’s the part I hate admitting:

I don’t like who I am when I’m angry.

I don’t like the version of me that walks around with her shoulders tight and her jaw locked and her heart feeling like a clenched fist.

I don’t like the way it steals my softness.

So forgiveness has been sitting in the back of my mind like an unwelcome houseguest.

Not because I think anyone “deserves” it.

Not because I want them back.

But because I know — deep down, in the place I don’t say out loud — that holding onto this anger is only hurting me.

And that’s the part that stings.

Knowing the truth doesn’t make it easier to swallow.

Some days I’m fine.

Other days I cry because I’m not close to a lot of people, and losing even one feels like losing a whole room. Someone told me recently that I attract hurt people — that people come to me because I want to take care of them. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. But I do know stability has never come easily for me.

The fact that Chuck and I are as solid as we are?

A miracle. A blessing. A plot twist I’m grateful for every single day.

I’m trying so hard to know myself.

To trust myself.

To be myself — even when it costs me people.

And I know I’m better off letting go of the chaos and moving on.

I know forgiveness is the only way I get to stop carrying the weight of someone else’s choices.

But let’s be honest:

Forgiving someone when you didn’t do anything wrong sucks.

It feels unfair.

It feels backwards.

It feels like doing emotional labor for people who didn’t do it for you.

Still… here I am.

Trying.

Letting the anger loosen its grip one day at a time.

Not for them.

For me.

Because I don’t want to live in the version of myself that anger builds.

I want to live in the version I’m becoming — the one who knows her worth, trusts her gut, and lets go of what doesn’t deserve to stay.

We all want closure, but some endings don’t come with closure. And maybe the real work is learning to close the chapter ourselves, even when the story didn’t give us a final line.