There comes a point in all relationships when you are stuck in this thing I call the “labyrinth of nothingness.”
It's the heart of the “I don't knows,” the “I thinks” and the “I just don't cares.” It’s when we’re no longer happy and when we spend a lot of time gloating in the misery to which we willingly glue ourselves. We remain stagnant, refusing to do anything that will make the situation better.
Still, though you very well may love your boyfriend or girlfriend, you’re not 19 years old anymore and love really is not enough. You know that you really only have two options.
One is to continue walking in a pair, and the other is a lonely path to parting. There is no middle ground to which you can run anymore because the median for which you so desperately search is where you already are. Now, the relationship is so much more draining than it is pleasurable.
Lately, I've been thinking about the standstill. I've been contemplating why we never do something — or really, anything — to get ourselves moving again once we become stagnant. Time isn't waiting, yet we are and for nothing.
I used to think it was because we are terrified of being alone, but the comfort I find in solitude completely voids this argument. Rather, it's the knowing of a decision that will lead you to the best relationship of your life — and it’s not so complicated.
The labyrinth of nothingness is the worst place you can be; it will not lead you to your best relationship. You get nowhere; neither of you get anywhere.
To get out of it, though, requires balls. Getting out of this state means taking a risk without knowing the outcome. This is an undesirable feeling for so many because we thrive off of assurance. Yet, a large chunk of the time, we’re only sure of the bullsh*t that adds nothing to our lives.
It’s ridiculous that our generation as a whole is so afraid of the unknown. We need to know the answers to everything. Why? After all, most of the time, it’s not the answer you want, so why are you looking for it?
Instead, let something be a mystery. The best moments of your life were probably unplanned. They were probably spontaneous curveballs that you didn’t see coming.
Still it remains, we want answers and plans for everything.
I promise that your friends are probably over hearing about your weekly sob stories. The story isn’t different this time; you’re just telling yourself it is because something sort of good happened since the last time you were crying about an “I just don’t care” response.
Something convinces your brainwashed mind that it has something onto which it can hold, when deep down, you know nothing is left.
Someone once said that today, he can’t be who he was yesterday because that person no longer exists. It’s true. We fail to recognize our growth, and sometimes we grow a part.
We want something we once had so badly that we believe if we stay, we can recreate it. When has anything ever been exactly the same the second time around? Never. It’s a good thing to admit.
Labyrinths do things to you -- bad things, sort of like this:
1. You begin to hate the person you once loved. He or she is no longer a person about whom you speak positively. In fact, the sound of his or her name makes you cringe.
2. Good memories don’t exist. The more you choose to stay in your state of unhappiness, the more storms replace your sunny memories. Eventually, you won’t be able to remember anything great about your relationship.
3. It affects everything you do. You’re no longer you; you’re just the version of you that best fits within this melancholy you now know as your life.
4. Your misery is your new hobby. You can’t talk about anything else. Your friends know, when you call, it’s to talk about this creature who sucks all happiness from your life.
I know that when you love someone so much, you see everything with the person in the picture: a tomorrow, a future and everything else.
I also know, when you stay around for no reason, you rob yourself of happy memories, which is the only thing you can keep from an expired relationship. You’re both stuck and neither of you want to fight for it any longer. It's time to get the f*ck out!
Choose to either walk away into solitude, or toward something new. Both options have potential, but it’s the uncertainty that we find so difficult to stomach. Walking away is difficult, while comfort is easy.
Have you ever thought that maybe the comfort wasn’t worth the consequence? Do you really want to hate someone you once loved? Probably not.
It’s the unknown that scares us and suggests we gloat in our misery. We think it’s about not running away, but rather, about staying put and getting through the problem.
Yet, there’s a serious difference between getting through things and gliding over them. The labyrinth isn’t a phase that disappears; it’s a standstill that begs for someone to do make a change, but still, we don’t.
We accept the stagnancy partially because we don’t want to be alone. It’s better to be stuck with someone than to be stuck alone, right? In reality, though, you really have nothing -- even with a partner, one who makes you unhappy.
I used to be so afraid of being alone, but I’ve found that my best relationship is with myself.
Purgatory is a crap place to be in and it’s fair to no one. Letting go means new opportunities will surface. It doesn’t mean you won’t miss your ex because you absolutely will.
However, it enables change in the best possible way. Both you and your ex have the chance to grow, breathe and do something that too many people don’t: walk away with respect for each other.
Photo via MTV