Endings are the most obvious thing in the world; you can spot them from a mile away. The absurdly funny thing, however, is that even though they are so blatant in their approach, they are also incredibly sneaky. Endings appear in the sneakiest ways.
These regular dwelling and living places turn from vibrant to dull. Regardless of whether or not there is a large shift such as being forced out of your job, places that once excited you or that you thrived in start to lose their draw. They fade from bright colors into dull, gray space.
The relationship frays. The decay does not come quickly, but slowly, painfully, like a disease. You can watch it begin to crumble, but it doesn’t strike you until you turn around one day to watch it collapse, seemingly suddenly. The heartache, oh the heartache. It was sneaky, but you retrospectively saw it coming.
And the draw, oh the draw. You cannot put your finger on it, it has no actual pulse, but there is something out there calling for you. It is that one hopeful spark in the gloom that seems to make everything else make sense; it is the one thing that keeps pulling you forward when it would be tempting to stagnate and mourn over all the endings and closings that have been burying you suddenly.
Yes, the subtlety makes it seem sudden, but looking back over my shoulder it is blindingly obvious. The chapter’s closing, oh I feel it.
I feel it.