The end that didn’t end or perhaps never started.

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Sometimes relationships and the end of such can be extremely painful, sometimes not right away, sometimes not all at once.  Sometimes its like a death, it hits you in stages, and you feel it in very different ways as the time goes on.

I used to think one of the worst things about a breakup could be not understanding what went wrong, or what happened that lead to that point.  But lately I have decided it might be worse to know, to be able to diagram step-by-step what went wrong, especially if you can trace it back to the very beginning.  Like “a series of unfortunate events”.

It is something crazy when you can look back and say well “he didn’t do this”.. then you think “well that’s because I did this” and then “I did this”.. “because he didn’t do that”.. and you just keep going and going along the trail until you end up at the end, or more correctly the beginning.

Then you ask yourself, “So how did this dooming chain reaction begin?  Who started it?  Who did the wrong first?”

Because let’s be honest, the human in all of us wants someone to blame, ultimately.  It’s easier to blame.  Blame is a quick conclusion, you can then be bitter, mad, resentful at the other person or turn against yourself.

But it’s much harder, a straight punch to the stomach, when you realize the catalyst wasn’t either of you.  Instead it was some uncontrollable event or factor: timing, your history, their history, a combination of your histories, outside influences, ect., that try as you might you can’t pin on anyone or anything; it just was.

It was the thing that set the wheels in motion; a runaway semi-truck, an avalanche, that tipped the scale and gathered speed at such a momentous rate that that initial catalyst was lost to everyone involved.  Buried in all the wrong turns and bumps that just keep occurring at a momentous pace.

Then, one day, after the dust has cleared, like any natural disaster or horrific accident, once the initial rubble has been cleared and life is set back into normal never-ceasing rhythm the initial cause begins to be sought.  You couldn’t begin to see it at any other time, no, when the house is on fire you don’t search for the spark, you just keep belly-crawling inch by inch to a lesser smoke filled room until you can reach the exit.

But now, now that everyone is safe, or so it would seem, now we can figure out what happened.  And the crazy part is, once the cause is discovered the knowledge of it couldn’t have saved the house from a less destructive fire.  No, you either realized where the spark was coming from when it started and squashed the fire there, or you suffered the hot blaze.  You couldn’t have done anything differently with your knowledge, because you wouldn’t have had to do anything if you had the knowledge, the fire wouldn’t have even ignited.

So here you are, amongst the ashes.  The knowledge of the cause of the disaster does nothing for the remains of the house which once stood before you.  You are homeless, with nothing to blame but something which no one knew was happening, until of course it was already way too late and all you could do was fight for your life and hope you made it out alive with minimal injuries.


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