We all come tumbling down

He loves me enough to make the break up as easy as he could on me. At least he thinks that is what he is doing. Twisted? A little. But I have done the same in his position. His kindness tears at me, making me almost wish there had been yelling and accusations and anger. Instead, I just worry about him and flagellate myself by checking his facebook several times a day.

I was expecting a drunken phone call that night, or last night, or today. But none came and that just makes me worry about him all the more. And all the worry makes me confused. I am barely suppressing panicked self-doubts and reminding myself of the very real reasons that I ended things instead of dwelling on some of his more amazing qualities.

Skippy had an interesting insight when I made the comment that I worry about my inability to remain happy in relationships. He mentioned that maybe it isn’t the end of the relationship that is my dysfunction; maybe it is the start of the relationship in the first place. It’s a valid point and one that I have started to skirt lately. I blindly convince myself that this is the one, every time. Instead of realizing that they are all wrong for me from the beginning, I realize it months and months down the road. I need to learn to exercise more caution, though my ability to throw caution to the wind and let my passions lead me is one of my favorite qualities about myself.

If nothing else, no one can ever say I don’t live my life with passion. However, perhaps my passion would be best tempered by a little more caution.