Playing witness to a dissolving relationship is never easy. Especially when you are equally invested in both parties, and have for so long loved the sum of the parts sometimes more often than the parts alone. As an outsider you can’t help but wonder if each side just gave a little more leeway - a little more grace, a little more love – that the union might survive the torrential dissolve that is on the brink. But having at some point been an insider of such a situation yourself, you also know that at the point right before the big separation, it’s obvious that even with leeway, grace, and love it’s nearly impossible. One side is so badly scorched by the opposite’s actions (or inaction, in some cases), and the other side has perfected distance as a coping mechanism for the frustration, hurt, and disappointment. Both are to blame, and neither apologize, and each has become apathetic.
One could argue that it’s the most tumultuous relationships that are the most passionate, energizing, and inspiring; that it’s that passion, energy, and inspiration that takes a small tear in the skin to the next level of gaping wound. The relationship from the outside seem so perfect and syncopated, so enigmatic and enviable.
I am a witness; I am an outsider; and, I am torn – shredded even – by the state that this rapidly dissolving union is in. Alone each member is good; but together they are great. There is passion; there is love; there is rhythm; and there is harmony. And I can't imagine anything similar without the current cohesiveness. And so I hold out hope, that something will change - that many things will change - and instead of dissolving away, this tie will start strengthening and growing again in the direction it once did.
