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      Closure

     


My mentor told me that I looked more radiant and happier than she had ever seen me. I couldn’t believe that in a time of what I considered to be borderline depression—ok, I was clinically depressed—I had learned to fool the world into thinking that this was the happiest time in my life. It was the most stressful. Due to medical reasons I had accumulated ugly scars on my face, and I felt that I would never be beautiful again. But then I saw him, walking with his girlfriend. He smiled to me, and as I slowed down hoping that he would introduce me to his girlfriend, because for the first time in six months I felt mature, calm, and ready to face the fact that the guy I crushed on a year ago was in love with someone else. Not just some random floozy. She was beautiful. I was not. That was not the point. I lost, and she won. Not that I was ever in the competition. But he kept on walking, despite his warm smile. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence or that her boyfriend may have run into an old friend. They kept walking without stopping, the way you do with old acquaintances whose names you may not recall. I was an old acquaintance and nothing more. It was the moment of closure that I needed. I had pictured becoming friends with him and his girlfriend (maybe not friends, but I at least wanted to prove to her that she had nothing to worry about with a friendly introduction). But it was never up to me. Who was I? What place did I have in their lives? None. I was just a passerby, barely more than a stranger. And that was the closure I needed. The scars I had accumulated throughout the last year on my face scrunched into lines as I smiled back with a simple “hello.” And I was radiant, calm, and happy.

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