Why Closure Is Kind of a Myth - By Janika Verwey

Written By: Janika Verwey

Category: Essay

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In her essay, "Why Closure Is Kind of a Myth," Janika Verwey offers a profound exploration into the elusive nature of closure and our innate desire for resolution. Submitted to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this essay delves into the psychological underpinnings that drive our quest for answers. Verwey's nuanced perspective invites readers to reflect on the unfinished moments in life, prompting a deeper understanding of why our brains yearn for closure despite its often unattainable promise.

About the Work

Janika Verwey's essay addresses the complex theme of closure, examining the psychological need for resolution and the frustration of unfinished narratives. Her writing style is both introspective and analytical, capturing the emotional turmoil associated with unresolved experiences. Through vivid imagery and thoughtful commentary, Verwey challenges the conventional notion of closure, suggesting that true healing comes not from answers, but from accepting life's inherent uncertainties.

Why Closure Is Kind of a Myth

Original Submission by Janika Verwey

Why Closure Is Kind of a Myth

and why your brain keeps begging for it anyway

an Essay by Janika Verwey

There’s a specific kind of silence that feels louder than anything else. Not the peaceful kind. The unfinished kind. The kind that sits in your chest like a question no one answered properly. I think everyone has at least one moment like that in their lives… a conversation that ended too early, a person who left without explaining, a version of yourself that keeps replaying what you should’ve said instead. And it’s strange, because it’s not always the ending that hurts the most. It’s the lack of an ending. The feeling that something is still open, still unresolved, like a book that just… stopped mid-sentence. And somehow, your mind keeps flipping back to that same page, convinced there must be more.

Closure is supposed to fix that.

At least, that’s the idea we’ve been sold. That somewhere out there is a final conversation, a perfectly worded explanation, or an apology that will suddenly make everything make sense. Like all the confusion will line up neatly, your emotions will settle, and you’ll finally feel… done.

It’s a comforting concept. It gives the illusion of control. It suggests that if you just wait long enough, or ask the right questions, or get the other person to finally explain themselves, everything will click into place.

The problem is that closure depends on something that’s deeply unreliable: other people.

It assumes that people understand their own behavior well enough to explain it. That they’re emotionally aware, honest, and willing to revisit uncomfortable situations just to give you peace. But most people are not walking around with that level of self-awareness. They make decisions based on impulse, fear, insecurity, or convenience, and then they move on without fully processing what they’ve done.

So, when you’re waiting for closure, you’re often waiting for clarity from someone who never had it.

And your brain absolutely hates that.

From a psychological standpoint, humans are wired to seek resolution. Your mind is constantly trying to create order out of chaos, patterns out of randomness. There’s even a concept called the Zeigarnik effect, which basically means unfinished situations stick in your memory more intensely than completed ones. It’s why you can forget entire conversations but still remember the exact wording of something that never got resolved.

Your brain treats it like an error. Like a glitch in the system.

So, it keeps looping.

It replays memories, reanalyzes details, reconstructs conversations. It searches for meaning, for logic, for something that explains why. And when it can’t find a real answer, it starts creating its own.

Maybe it was something you did. Maybe you weren’t enough. Maybe if you had been different, said more, said less, stayed, left… anything. Your mind would rather blame you than sit with uncertainty. Because uncertainty feels like a lack of control, and the brain will do almost anything to avoid that.

But here’s the part no one really wants to admit: even if you got the explanation you’re waiting for, it probably wouldn’t feel the way you think it will.

Explanations don’t reverse emotional impact. They don’t erase what happened or how it made you feel. At best, they give context. At worst, they feel shallow, incomplete, or even more confusing. Because real explanations are rarely profound. They’re often simple in a way that feels almost disappointing.

“I was overwhelmed.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“It just didn’t feel right anymore.”

And that’s it.

No grand reasoning. No deeper meaning that justifies the weight of what you felt. Just human inconsistency packaged into a sentence that doesn’t quite match the intensity of your experience.

It’s like expecting a detailed map and being handed a vague sketch.

And sometimes, you don’t even get that. Sometimes there’s no explanation at all. No apology. No final conversation. Just silence.

That’s where the idea of closure starts to unravel.

Because if closure relies on someone else giving you answers, then you’re placing your healing in the hands of someone who already showed they might not handle it well. You’re waiting for them to show up differently, to suddenly become the version of themselves you needed all along.

That’s not closure. That’s hope wearing a different name.

Real closure is much less dramatic, and honestly, a lot less satisfying.

It’s internal. Quiet. It doesn’t come with a moment you can point to and say, “that’s when everything made sense.” Instead, it builds slowly, almost reluctantly.

It’s deciding to stop chasing explanations that don’t exist.

It’s accepting that some questions don’t have answers you’ll ever hear.

It’s recognising that understanding why isn’t always necessary to move forward.

And that feels wrong at first.

Because everything in you wants resolution. Your brain keeps trying to reopen the case, like it missed something important. It zooms in on details, replays tone, timing, wording. It tries to solve something that doesn’t have a clear solution.

But healing doesn’t come from solving it.

It comes from tolerating the fact that you can’t.

That some things will remain incomplete. That some stories don’t have clean endings. That sometimes, the lack of explanation is the explanation.

And maybe the hardest part is accepting that your experience was real, even if no one ever properly acknowledged it. That what you felt mattered, even if it was never fully understood or explained by the other person.

Closure, in the way people imagine it, is neat and final. But real life is neither of those things. It’s messy, unfinished, and full of loose ends that never quite tie themselves together.

So maybe closure isn’t about closing the door completely.

Maybe it’s about learning to walk away while it’s still slightly open, resisting the urge to turn back one last time. Not because you got the answers you wanted, but because you realised you don’t need them to keep going.

And that’s not as satisfying as a perfect ending.

But it’s real.

And unfortunately, real is all we ever get.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates the diverse voices and creative talents from around the world. This esteemed platform offers writers an opportunity to share their unique perspectives and engage with a global audience. Participants submit works across various categories, contributing to a rich tapestry of poetic and narrative expression that pushes the boundaries of contemporary literature.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Janika Verwey for her insightful contribution, "Why Closure Is Kind of a Myth," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her essay provides a compelling examination of the human condition, encouraging us to embrace the complexities of unresolved moments. We are grateful for her thought-provoking insights and the dialogue her work inspires.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.