You Don’t Owe Anyone Closure, Chanakya Niti on Self-Respect

There’s a strange pressure today to explain everything. To end things with perfectly crafted statements. To tie emotional chaos into neat little bows called “closure.” As if the pain of being misunderstood or mistreated would somehow vanish if you just found the right words. But here’s a truth most people learn too late: Closure is not something you give. It’s something you take. And sometimes, it looks like silence. Like leaving quietly. Like choosing peace over proving a point.


That’s what we all say when we’re hurting. We believe that if we just explain ourselves better, if we write a longer message, find the right tone, or give them “one last chance”, they’ll finally see things from our side. But here’s what Chanakya would’ve told you, and he wasn’t just some ancient philosopher in a dusty book. He was razor-sharp about human nature.
He understood something many modern minds still don’t: You don’t waste insight on people who never valued your presence. Trying to make someone “get it” when they’ve already chosen not to… is not wisdom. It’s self-neglect in disguise.


People don’t talk enough about how dangerous the idea of closure can be. Because in the name of “just wanting to talk,” people get pulled back into cycles they worked so hard to escape. Cycles of guilt. Of gaslighting. Of manipulation dressed as emotional maturity. You go in hoping for peace and come out doubting your reality.
You tell yourself you just want answers, but really, you want to feel seen. Heard. Acknowledged. And that longing makes you vulnerable. That’s what they count on. And that’s exactly why Chanakya warned: “Do not revisit what once destroyed your peace.” Because some people don’t offer you closure, they offer you a door back into your own suffering


There’s a quiet desperation behind the need for closure. It whispers, “If they understood how much they hurt me, it would matter more.” But no amount of clarity will heal if they didn’t care when they had the chance.
Chanakya once said: “Do not explain yourself to every passerby. The worthy already understand; the rest never will.” And isn’t that the truth? Some people heard you loud and clear. They just didn’t value what you said.


If you’ve ever tried to get closure from someone who caused you harm, you know what it feels like. They don’t reflect. They deflect. They don’t listen. They rewrite. And somehow, by the end of that conversation, you’re the one apologizing. You’re the one feeling like you made too much of it. You’re the one wondering if maybe you were “too sensitive.”
That’s not closure. That’s self-betrayal. And the worst part? You knew it was going to happen. But you still hoped this time would be different


Chanakya wasn’t heartless. But he was deeply aware of human weakness, especially how easily the mind can be manipulated when the heart still hurts. He believed in detachment not because emotion is bad, but because attachment to the wrong people is deadly. He said: “The wise man lets go of that which weakens his spirit.”
If a conversation costs you your clarity, your sleep, your progress, your sanity, what kind of closure is that? It's not closure. It’s a relapse.


You started eating again. Sleeping. Smiling without forcing it. You stopped checking your phone. You had days where you didn’t think about them at all. That was healing. But the need for closure drags you back. Not because you miss them, but because a part of you still doesn’t feel finished.
Still doesn’t feel seen. Still needs validation. But here’s the hardest, most liberating truth you’ll ever learn: Not being seen by someone who refused to value you is not a wound. It’s freedom. It’s proof that your exit was the right choice.

• You’re not a therapist for someone who broke you.
• You’re not a narrator for someone who walked away.
• You’re not a messenger for their healing.
• You are allowed to outgrow conversations that never valued your voice to begin with.

We think of closure as the final chapter. But real closure isn’t about finishing a conversation, it’s about deciding you don’t need it anymore. It’s the quiet realization that peace doesn’t come from another person’s remorse. It comes from your own refusal to keep bleeding for someone who didn’t bring you a bandage. Chanakya wasn’t gentle when it came to self-respect. He believed that protecting your energy was non-negotiable. That there’s nothing noble about constantly explaining yourself to people who made a habit of not listening.
There’s something deeply powerful about exiting without drama. No last call. No performance. Just truth. Stillness. Grace. Not everything deserves a response. Not everyone is owed an explanation. Not every story has to end with a conversation.

• Sometimes, the real closure is simply knowing: You could have said more… but chose peace instead. And maybe that’s not the kind of ending that gets written in movies. But it’s the kind that builds the person you become next.
• So if you’re waiting for the right moment to walk away without explaining yourself, this is it. You’re not abandoning anyone.
• You’re finally choosing not to abandon yourself. And that, as Chanakya would say, is the highest form of wisdom.