The Language of Heartache

The Pattern in Our Pitfalls

If there is one thing I will forever remember about us,
It will be that we are always
Disagreeing,
Arguing,
And fighting
Over the same things over
And over
And over
And over again.
Perhaps it's because we are always
Repeating,
Reiterating,
And regurgitating the same things over
And over
And over again.
The mistakes that we make are sure to be made again
Without thought,
Without regret,
Without fail.

It's in our nature, I suppose,
To go through the same routines and regimens
Every
Single
Day.
I always show up late
And later
And later
And later
To every single thing we have planned,
With a new excuse every time
For my inexcusable behavior.
You always hound, harry, harangue, and harass me
Constantly like clockwork
Every
Single
Day.
I give you something to find fault in,
And I find fault in you when you point it out.

Perhaps our fights are my fault.
Perhaps I cause our contretemps.
Perhaps I am looking for an exit,
An escape,
From the toxic and poisonous and dangerous and deadly relationship
That we have forced ourselves into,
And my hidden desire has led to my unfaithfulness and ungratefulness to you and for you.
Perhaps it really is all my fault,
And perhaps I should regret that I don't behave better toward you.

However, our disappointments and debacles can't only be blamed on me
Because it takes two to tango.
In a way, you are to blame for causing disagreements
Just as much as I am
By refusing to let go.
You must be looking for a way out as much as I am,
What with your neverending nagging and continuous criticizing
And rambling rants that go on
And on
And on forever
And ever with no end in sight—
That is, until you grow tired of hearing your own voice.

Yet no matter how much of a murderous mess our relationship is,
You cannot deny that we encounter a few good times
Of peace and partnership.
We have those rare late night roof visits,
Discussing the dilemma of the dead and gone dodo bird,
Wondering if it really matters whether the species has gone extinct
Or if we are better off without those bumbling birds
Robbing us of quite precious yet ordinary necessities
Such as air or food or living space on this broken planet.
Though I am unable to name more of these moments
Because they are few and far between,
They undeniably exist, whether in veritable memories or visionary minds.
They do not cease to exist just because our memories of them do.
The problem lies in our marred memory,
But what does it matter that the moments existed at one point
If the memories of them will blur into oblivion?
If we forget them in our fury and fighting,
Won't they be pointless and points lost?

The fact of the matter is that
We can't match a motive to our downward spiral
No matter how hard we try.
The only explanation within reason is that
We are both too caught up in our own confining circles of customs
To realize that all we're doing is tearing each other apart
With words,
With actions,
And with a harmful lack of both
Without consideration
And without compunction
Over
And over
And over again
Until it is too late,
Until we've finally exhausted each other
To the point of death,
Or very nearly,
When there is nothing left to do
But let our worn and withered remains waste away in the wind.
I can't say I regret our relationship
Because I don't, and I won't,
Not now,
Not ever.
I may only regret that we won't recognize the patterns in our pitfalls
And won't explore the prepossessing possibilities in our partnership.

Without fail,
Without regret,
Without thought,
The mistakes we make are sure to be made again over
And over
And over again,
Regurgitating,
Repeating,
Reiterating,
Over and over and over and over again,
We're always fighting,
Arguing,
And disagreeing
Always and forever,
​And I will always and forever remember this about us.