Maybe sometimes we stay together for the sake of togetherness.
Because as long as we haven’t given up and walked out, we have hope, and the unfamiliar is more than a little terrifying. Because we’ve grown so comfortable and weathered together and there’s no need to rock the boat on steady waters. Because the hope we have allows us to believe that everything will be rainbows and stardust in the end.
But maybe it takes cruelty to be kind, and maybe hope is irrational, and the comfortable familiarity is pitiful. Maybe we’re clinging on to that hope like a drowning man to a rock, so that we sink even faster, and maybe staying together for togetherness is nowhere near good enough. Maybe rainbows and stardust are but mere idealistic notions.
It all really comes down to a few questions. What makes you happy? If you are not happy, what will make you happy? How hard are you willing to work to be happy?
Because the promise you might have once seen in him may have dwindled, and the giddy happiness you might have once experienced with him may have lost its magic touch, and maybe the relationship you have with him - no matter how amazing it was in the beginning - has to change, because you have changed, or he has, or both of you have.
Times move. Events happen. People change. For better or for worse, the razor-sharp, jagged pieces of life fall into place, and it’s only up to us to try to repair the damage of reality.
Sometimes achieving that means having to leave.
Sometimes it means you have to snuff out the hope you have for your relationship, and walk out, no matter how difficult it is. Because hope can be dangerous - as long as you have hope, you will stay. And just like the drowning man thrashing about in the waters to keep himself afloat - you either learn to swim, or sink.
Swim. Yes, you’ve gone through a lot together. Yes, he treats you a lot better now. Yes, it’s so difficult to move on. Yes, you’re afraid you’ll miss him so much you’ll regret leaving. Yes, you’ve grown so used to having him around that you think you wont be able to manage on your own.
But swim. You only have one life, and one youth, and two or three years of it is a lot to waste on something that doesn’t make you happy. The time you have, sweetheart, will never be yours again, ever. You are young, and attractive, and sweet. You are seventeen, going on eighteen; fellows will fall in line - eager young cads and rogues and lads will offer you food and wine.
Does he make you happy? Do you see any future with him? Do you see yourself bearing his children and growing old together?
Swim. You will have to learn how, and you will hurt, and tire. But I promise you your life - I promise you freedom. You will not sink, you will reach dry land. You have to take the first step alone, but I’ll be there the rest of the way.
I don’t have a say, of course. And I hope I didn’t come across as overly forceful. But just look for the answers to my questions - when you find them, I will respect them. At the end of it all, after all, I just want you to be happy.
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