Closure

When I was in high school, I didn't believe in staying friends after a relationship ended. How do you go back to platonic after vulnerability has been revealed? I wanted to be away from ex-boyfriends when the relationships were over--even better if we never spoke. For years, this philosophy has served me well. Then five years ago, one ex-boyfriend made me face the fact that we roamed the same circles and we could not avoid each other. From him, I learned exes can be civil and platonic again. Three years ago, one ex proved to be a good friend. Now that we were not in a relationship, we can think objectively and logically about what went wrong. We even joke about our past relationship. Slowly, my ideas of post-relationship began to change, and I'm even grateful that my relationships with ex-boyfriends have changed into something new for both of us.

But there's always one that just ended and you don't know why. And because there is no friendship, the relationship is entirely over. There's always that one relationship where a person thinks any one or all of these things:
That's the one that got away.
In a different lifetime, we would have worked out.
The timing wasn't right.
What went wrong?
What's wrong with me?
He/she is perfect; why am I not into him/her?
Can we still be friends?
This is not how it's supposed to end.
I need closure.

There is one relationship that impacted my perspective for all other men I have dated in my life. He did not set the standard for all future relationships, for he was far from perfect. From his flaws and imperfections, it pushed me to discover myself--my emotional limitations, my tolerance and patience, and most importantly, my values and self-worth--in a relationship and separately as an individual. Being with him was the most trying time of my life, emotionally and logically. And I learned so much about partnerships and about myself when our relationship ended.

Of all the thoughts listed above, I kept thinking that we would have worked out but the timing was just all wrong for us. I walked out on that relationship without a goodbye or an official "we're over." I walked out one night and never turned back. For months afterwards, I thought I wasn't being fair to him and didn't give him closure, when in my mind, I had all the closure I needed: I walked out. I had reached my limits, and I needed to get out before I lost myself.

Since that night, I never thought badly of him and hoped he was happy with whatever he was doing in life. Yes, I did imagine awkward moments of "What if we bumped into each other at the same restaurant?" and I wouldn't know what to say. Would he hate me because I never gave him closure? Would he assume that I never wanted anything to do with him anymore because I walked out? Or would we just say hi and turn the other away? Whatever the scenario, I would be content if he was happy in life, for I am happy and fulfilled in mine. Yes, I always wondered if he was doing well. Unlike my other ex-boyfriends, I do not have the luxury of friendship with him to ask him outright. It was just assumed that we have no right to each other's business anymore.

Whatever the impetus, he emailed me recently. I was surprised to see his name in my INBOX, and seeing his email nearly made my heart stop. After all these years, he decided to make contact with me. In short, he admitted his flaws and his shortcomings in our relationship, and he asked for my forgiveness for putting me through his emotional burdens. He sought closure. I had no grudges, so I forgave him.

Whether this recent contact means we may be friends again or not, I know we both have closure on one aspect of our lives... and I'm okay with that.

Dream-Killer

Last year, my students started calling me a "dream-killer," due to the strict way I grade essays. I'm so particular with language and grammar that, regardless of the color pen I use, I manage to make essays bleed with the regret of existence. But even with the low grades and the disheartening sighs, my students laugh at me and at each other before they dig their heels to do better for the revision. In addition, I have to say that I have created mini-dream-killers; whenever they edit other students' work, they are as harsh as I am.

Although they call me a "dream-killer," it's more for humor; I like to think of it as a "call to reality." The quality of student writing has declined in the past years since I have been teaching. What really gets me is that some students believe they can really write; some even want to be professional writers. Yet they cannot even string a coherent sentence together. When they see the corrections I make or the comments I write, it's a reality check that they were not analyzing their own mistakes or paying attention to details.

There is one particular student in mind. Inspired by Twilight and teenage romantic notions of eternal love, she really wants to be a writer and write stories, à la Stephanie Meyer (that's the student's first mistake: idolizing low-quality literature). Far be it from me to say what she wants to write--but gosh darn it!--I will not let her believe she can be professional writer. She cannot write. She is inarticulate with sentences and incomprehensible with anything related to the WRITTEN word. When I bloody up papers, hers becomes completely anemic by the time I finish (pun intended).

Dream-killer. I'm going to kill that dream right now. She can write all she wants and aspire to be a writer all she wants, but I will make bloody sure she will know that she will not be a good one.

Reality is a bitch.