Closure
"We all got what I call a life trap, this gene-deep certainty that things will be different."
Lulica and I are rewatching the excellent first season of True Detective. Here’s a little monologue by Rustin Cohle (played by Matthew McConaughey):
We all got what I call a life trap, this gene-deep certainty that things will be different, that you’ll move to another city and meet the people that’ll be the friends for the rest of your life, that you’ll fall in love and be fulfilled. Fucking fulfillment and closure, whatever the fuck those two… Fucking empty jars to hold this shitstorm, and nothing is ever fulfilled until the very end, and closure… No. No, no. Nothing is ever over.
I’ve been obsessed with two questions for most of my adult life—why was I autistic as a child? And what made me fall ill when I was twenty?
I enjoy reading and watching noir—only a true detective could understand the obsession that drives a sick man to find a cure for his disease.
I should have felt dejected after Cohle’s speech. I should have been desperate at the Syspiphean task of finding answers that may elude me for the rest of my life. But instead, I felt at peace.
The woman I love is next to me. I have no rush to be anywhere else. I may never catch the killer, but the killer hasn’t caught me either. This is closure.
