...this past week my eyes have been a victim of things, no eyes should see.  And memories resurface like old stains on a good ol' shirt you've lost too early.  Funny how memories can open up a whole lot full of emotions and scars and bullshit you thought you were over.  Funny how the human mind loves to relive all this stuff in all its rawness and gory.

I have seen the rise and the fall.  The up and the down.  The negative and the positive.  All flash like a blink.  I have seen priorities shift and compromises and morphing and conjoined twins and relationships blossom in the oddest of places.  I have seen people compromise and give it all to lose it all and wonder if these people now bang their heads and hold their hearts in their hands, crumpled up, in a pulp, bloodied, heavy, and regret every single thing ever done in the name of love and compromise.

I heard of a friend (not me) who had a pretty shitty life and had finally gotten back on track and was doing great with her daughter.  She met a guy.   A good guy.  And after many a begging the guy convinced her (he had no children and she is advanced in age) to have another child.  His child.  After many a debacle, she decides this is the man she loves and this is what she wants to do, only to hear, after she gets pregnant, that he can never really love her and leaves her.  Now she is left pregnant with a fatherless child. Fuck.

This is the shit you can't make up.  This is the shit that terrifies me.  The fucking compromise.  The letting the wall down, the letting the other person in, the stop-being who you are and stop-standing for what you believe in, to get screwed over.

And yes, I know that no relationship can stand without compromise; without some kind of eye-to-eye, without some kind of common ground.  But at what price?  When does compromise turn into, becoming a wuss?

Even with the kid, compromise is essential.  I had to learn to pick my battles, know when to stand firm and know when it wasn't worth it to drag out an event or point.  Cause my mental state depended on it.

But I have the kid for life.  I have no choice here.  I can't cop out.

I see this situation with my friend and it hurts.  It really hurts.  She has put herself out there to get fucked over.  And it scares the hell out of people like me.  

In my eyes, after all that I have been through, compromise is vulnerability.  It is learning to quiet my mouth, sedate my actions, not demand what I deserve.  I don't know if that can be accomplished.  I see women morph into their men.  I sometimes don't see couples, I see conjoined twins.  And that is abominable.

There is a fine line between compromise, settling and copping out.

I don't know if I can tell the difference.  I don't know if I can compromise without feeling helpless, vulnerable and exposed.  I don't know how the dynamics work.

And sometimes, just sometimes, for the sake of many things, I wish I did.

Damn, I wish I did.

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