Break-Up or Break-Down?

Breaking up is never the easy thing to do. But sometimes, staying together seems to be the harder thing. Impossible, perhaps. Every relationship has its ups and downs, I suppose, but being inexperienced in them—inexperienced in life—doesn’t help when the downs come around.

Sometimes I wonder about what went wrong. What I did wrong. Could I have changed it? Could I have held on to those first-date feelings, or first-kiss feelings, or first-anything feelings? Could I have kept a better mindset—one that kept both of us in mind, rather than just me?

Maybe I’m incapable of thinking of anyone more than just me. Human nature, after all, isn’t it? Self-preservation before everything?

But then I look at my sisters—both of them in relationships that have lasted years. Sure, one has been through a divorce. Their current relationships have their own struggles as well. But somehow they both hold on to their happiness with their partners. My mother and father have been married for over 25 years now. Despite that their marriage isn’t as fabulous as it doubtless was in their honeymoon days, they tolerate each other, keep the romance alive as much as they can. They’re not at each other’s throats. They’re certainly not giving up.

Am I a quitter? Am I a heartbreaker? Maybe I’m just scared. In fact, I know I am. Scared and immature and unable to finish a lot of things I start; I guess a relationship is just one of them. But does that give me any right to hurt the one who says he loves me?

Because I did. I know I did. We never screamed, never really fought, but there was silence. A lot of silence. Especially on my part. I never wanted to talk, never wanted to let him know what was going on in my mind. My mind is my most private part of me. Who was he to try and understand me, I thought? So I hid, both my feelings and my self. And when he tried to break down my stupid walls there was silence and words that I didn’t care to choose carefully even though I didn’t scream them, and shit didn’t hit the fan but there were messy, icky feelings spilling all over, and I just crushed them all into the pale carpet where we’d never be able to get them out even with copious amounts of cleaner or endless amounts of scrubbing. They’re there for good.

Maybe I’ll learn from this. Maybe when I find someone else who’s good to me I’ll treat him right. Maybe I’ll choose my words more carefully, or maybe I’ll tell him everything rather than holding it all in. Maybe I’ll get it right. Maybe I won’t. My life just seems to be full of maybes right now. But maybe I won’t ever find the right guy, because maybe I just pushed him away.

Maybe. Who knows.