Life outside the window

 I have always hated endings. Be it a sad movie, a car ride, a lunch date, a conversation, the mere inevitability that all things come to an end. Be it good or bad. The bolt of relief for the latter immediately being replaced by ingratitude.  But I have always loved beginnings and the 'in-betweens'. 

The last time I went for a car ride, I couldn't stop thinking how much the music had affected my surroundings. A happy song lifted the spirits of everyone inside and outside, in the middle it was like the whole world had become a part of a big musical if they liked it or not, but the end was always a disaster. The people still rushing by without even giving a thought to the end beat, the trees swaying way too energetically for an ending, the snoring of your sibling sitting right next to you, you just know this was not the ending you wanted. It's the same with any trip. Even though I fuss a lot about the whole journey, I secretly love sitting in the same position until I feel paralysed, listening to my own strange collection of music, away from interaction and the madness of it all. And then you reach the end of your journey, the shuffling of feet, loud chattering, and you can't help but notice how disrupted the world looks from outside the window of the train,or the bus, or the car. All of them have different beginnings, public transports have a way of making you believe that you are one with the world. But then again for solitude or intimacy, you choose your own means of transport. Although the ending is the same, the destination. How marvelous of us to decide the origination of anything even though we realise we are all traveling in the same direction.

I have always hated endings. The way my ears perked up everytime I hear the sound of an engine, I rush to the window to see if it's you. I feel like I have been losing my mind since I asked my friend what those marks on his wrists were and he said 'Don't you want to know how it would all end?'. I have stared at him walking upto the front door for days and months and years, looking out of the window to see him, to know in both flesh and blood that he still doesn't know how it ends. At times I feel I have been entitled to live a life outside the window, but there I was peeking in on people from the other side, making you a part of this story, a story that lacked an ending but was holding onto the shackles of 'in-between' of a person's thoughts. 

The life outside the window taught me that the most inevitable part of anything is the ending. It could be sad, happy, monotonous, incomplete, and yet there it was. The life outside the window changes as a new song comes gushing into the atmosphere, removing all the disappointment of how the last song left us. It rustles our inner peace when we finally step onto the platform, the end of the journey but the beginning of an adventure. It awakens the boy as he watches the girl looking at him from her window, waving her hands frantically, realising that he knew how endings looked like as he gave her a smile back. The life outside my window was always out of sync but nonetheless it was the reason I started loving the end.