FOR THOSE WHO ARE RIGHT NOW STILL LOOKING FOR CLOSURE:
Closure is a motherfucker.
Closure will tell you to meet it at the bus stop at 6:30, and you’ll think Closure means 6:30 that day, but it really meant 6/30 as in June 30th, and didn’t specify the year.
Perhaps you’ll ask your ex to meet you at The Olive Garden and bring Closure with him, but he’ll stupidly bring Closure’s evil twin Openature and you’ll be left wondering why Closure was being such a dick.
Maybe your best friend claims she found Closure in a dream once, and that’s cool, but you’ve had dreams about your father where he’s played by Eddie Murphy and at the time this makes perfect sense but when you wake up you’re like “How’d I know that was my dad? My dad’s a Jewish Dentist” and if Closure came to you in a dream would you even know what to look for?
By the process of elimination, I can’t tell you where Closure is, but I know a few places where Closure is not:
1. On your ex-girlfriend’s mother’s answering machine.
2. Halfway through a bottle of Bacardi Grand Melon.
3. The bottom of the 59th Street Bridge.
4. In a box of Atomic Blue Hair Dye.
5. The chorus of Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
6. Inside a stranger’s body at midnight.
7. Inside that stranger’s apartment at dawn.
8. In anything you can only buy from someone who still uses a beeper.
Closure could take seventy-six years to reach you, like Halley’s comet. It might greet you by the airport check in, where your carry-on (filled with all the perfect comebacks to say after the fact, the roommate you lost over who would claim the bigger bedroom, the failed novels, the questions you never asked your father, every person you didn’t say goodbye to) exceeds the weight limit. Suddenly Closure shows up, all polite-like, and offers to help check your bags. Just when you think you’re going to accept you find yourself saying, “No. Keep them. Don’t need any of that where I’m going. I’m leaving it behind.”