So has it ever happened to you? Where you read a perfectly fine book and you just had to ruin it by reading the ending first?
It has always been that way for me. I don’t really know why but I was always that kind of person who loved spoilers. I just had to know now. Recently I was reading John Green’s The Fault in our Stars and I loved it, but something inside me just kept telling me to read the ending first, you know just for the sake of knowing what happens in the end. And it did ruin it for me. I never quite enjoyed the story as I did when i started it. I mean the story was good and all (yeah, and even the ending). I kinda felt like going through the middle was pointless because i already knew the end. Like what’s the point of knowing how it’s going to end when you already know how it is going to end.
I also recently watched this Korean movie called Finding Mr. Destiny. The lead there, on the contrary, was ending-phobic to the point that she didn’t even want to eat the last piece of whatever she’s eating. I didn’t really get it then. Why would someone be so afraid of ends? Doesn’t not knowing just annoy the heck out of them? Then it came to me. There were those kind of people and then there were me. I guess in a way you could say that people view endings in two ways: as an end and as an assurance.
Ending-phobic people view endings as an end in itself. An end to a wonderful ride. An end to beautiful memories. An end to something they hold dear. I guess their fear of ends is their fear of something being gone or someone going away or maybe even their fear of getting hurt or being disappointed. Like you’re eating this really heavenly delicious plate of spaghetti and you don’t want to ever finish eating it. Or you’re friends with the man you like and you can’t confess cause you’re afraid of being rejected or ruining the friendship.
People like me, on the other hand, view ends as an assurance. An assurance of a wonderful ride. An assurance of beautiful memories. An assurance of never losing something we hold dear. It’s kinda like asking what’s the point of going through all the shit in the world if I’m not gonna be happy in the end. Like what’s the point of going through a happy middle if you’re going to get a crappy end.
I don’t know why but I guess being ending-phobic is much better than being ending obsessed because you don’t always know, and you can’t always be sure. We start with birth and we end with death. What lies in between is what we call life, a long, crappy, happy middle. No matter how much I wanna have an assurance that I’ll live a happy life with a perfect end I know I can’t really be sure of that until time comes. So maybe that’s why I love knowing how the things I watch or read is going to end. Not because I’m afraid of the middle, but because the assurance I so badly want can only be found in the last pages of the books I read or the final minutes of the movies I watch.