Different night, same motherfucking story.

Considering how whichever words follow might read or come across to an audience of objective, critical thinkers, it seems reasonable to assume that most would come to the conclusion that the situation as a whole is just fucking toxic and that, beyond this being a matter of me sucking, or her sucking, it’s more that all involved parties just suck — or at least, if trying to avoid placing sole blame on any one person, or possibly avoiding the concept of fault altogether — that all of this is as unnecessarily complicated as such a situation or situations can get and that — again, if we are returning to the concept of blame — everyone is equally to blame, not only for the heartache the other is shouldering, but also for the heartache they themself are experiencing, given we are all consenting players in this trainwreck drama. Now, while I can understand how I might feel this way if, let’s say a friend or just some anonymous author were relaying a similar or identical account, being that it’s something that I am living, day in and day out, and which affects me very much and has affected me for going on four fucking years, I would like to say — even if I’m saying it to no one other than myself — that throwing the case out on the aforementioned sentiment is also oversimplifying the issue and kind of not the point.

Were I so willing to just say ‘fuck it’ and throw in the towel with regard to all of this, this is something I would have done an extremely long time ago by now, and the fact that I’m here writing this is proof that that is not how I feel. If nothing else, then for myself I feel that this situation deserves unpacking. If nothing else, then for the amount of time and emotional labor that I’ve poured into all of it, then these thoughts and feelings deserve not only an opportunity at a more thorough examination, but to that extent and to allow for the possibility of such examining, said thoughts and feelings need to be set out and organized into something legible and able to be made sense of, in the first place. After all, writing — and more specifically, journaling — beyond how gratifying it is in general — is a great tool for laying your cards out to be organized and understood, and for being able to do it honestly, for lack of any audience, or at least if a lack of audience is preferable to the journalist (a term which I’m employing very loosely). Anyways, I’m hoping that this introduction of sorts came across in a way that will make sense and cause the least amount of cringing, upon later going back to read over it, but in the spirit of what I was just writing, I want to try for this entry to be as clear, concise, and organized as is possible — even if it ends up being padded out with some unnecessary adjectives, as is (somewhat embarrassingly) trademark of my writing from time to time.

For the past few minutes, since finishing those introductory paragraphs — while requiring consideration and presence of mind, they’re more arbitrary and based on my own opinions and feelings, and easy to just kinda fall into a sort of literary rhythm with — I’ve been staring at a blinking cursor, stuck on where exactly to start in on the actual meat or what I’m trying to relay. Where might be best to begin, and what it might mean for what exactly it is that I’m trying to express or make more sense of. What exactly is it that I’m trying to express. In which light did I want to make best sense of these issues, and from which angle (this is not to say that I’m thinking with the notion of ‘angles’ in mind, but there does need to exist some sense of intention and resolve, and while everyone is different, I’ve noticed via experience with my own writing over the years that going in completely blind is a receipt for organizational disaster.

What I’m thinking I might do is let rest what I’ve written so far, and leave this here as it’s own kind of standalone entry, serving to see the tone for any number of subsequent, related posts.