I Don't Know Where I Am But I Know I Don't Like It, I Open My Mouth & Out Pops Something Spiteful, Words Are So Cheap, But They Can Turn Out Expensiv

--"Tenderness", General Public

When any two people fight constantly it becomes necessary to prioritize your values. Nobody wants to be around somebody they disagree with on more than an occasional basis. Nobody wants the aggravation having to defend your point-of-view daily brings with it. It's an unnecessary expenditure while life's already exacting a pretty hefty toll. Yet, for some reason, hundreds, if not thousands, of individuals make the decision to forgo basic instincts and attempt to let another argument slide for the sake of peace. They set aside their personal pride, their opinions, even their common sense to maintain the delicate balance of keeping people that matter in their lives.

I've never been one of those people. Not really.

----

When I was younger and had only recently gotten to know her, it used to be easy to override Breanne's judgment. I just made myself louder and more tenacious when it came to arguing my point than she ever could. That's how I won fights. It wasn't a battle of logic when she and I disagreed. Logic hardly is the arbiter of most fights, I think. Most fights, if they're really broken down, are won by the person who can be the most stubborn. That was me. I didn't care if I was right as long as she was wrong. Like I said, it was easier because she was younger than me and because she was taught that concepts like civility and politeness do you more credit than tenaciousness and conviction. Sometimes in those early days, it was like rolling a bowling ball down bumper lanes. There was no way I could miss, no way I could lose.

But as we got older, I started to notice two things happening. She would start to stand up to me way too often and I started to resent the fact that we weren't having the easy fight/cool down/"I'm sorry" four-hour dramas we used to have. Eventually, the cool down periods started getting longer and longer, where sometimes I wouldn't even hear from her till four or five days letter. I also started to notice that the idea of being friends with her started to appeal to me less and less. I mean--who has the time and the energy to be around somebody that constantly makes you feel wrong and who brings out the meanest and most vile part of your personality? That's what she was doing and I'm sure I was conjuring up the same sort of bitch in her. It wasn't exactly a functional relationship for whole weeks at a time.

Honestly, I don't know why we're still friends sometimes. I've yelled at her stuff that stronger people have practically disowned me for. I've called her alternatively "a useless doll that people will never take seriously" and "a girl only good for two things, fucking and crying." She's told me to my face that I was "a heartless coward who likes to hit girls when he's wrong." There's a whole list of names and accusations that I'll probably never wipe from my memory as long as I live. Even after we've patched things up it's not like we ever attempt to take back the things we said. We know they're true--if not completely, with enough of a kernel of honesty to make it feel like they're true. There's no taking back words that hurt and there's no such thing as words that ever truly heal. There are only words that injure you so deeply that you'll always have that scar to remind you. It's one thing to be demeaned and knocked low by a stranger who only sees one part of you. When the person pulling the trigger is someone who knows every part of you, has heard every story you've ever told, you have no choice but to get shot point blank.

I've never fought so often and so hard with someone as I do with her.

The thing is as we've gotten older, sure, we've slowed down a bit. Gone are the days when we actually had fights over the phone or in person that lasted intermittently for ten plus hours. Gone are the days when I could infuriate her so much she wouldn't talk to me for months. Gone are the days when I actually woke up trying to steel myself to actually end things with her. Yet, even though we don't fight as often, when we do fight (like we have all weekend), it still feels like she ain't pulling punches and she still turns me into someone that would honestly wish harm visited upon her. We're just so fucking stubborn about these things, it makes me sick. You think two people many years out of college whose friendship is nearing two decades would have a more civil tone to each other when they disagree. Nope. We still come at each other with knives bared. That's still our first instinct. I don't know why that is. It's gone on so long with her that I don't even comprehend other options when a fight gets that bad. We're both throwing those knockout punches, trying to knock each other's head off in one blow.

It's got to stop. Even if it's like nine or ten months between these knockdown drag-out fights, I'm emotionally spent every time. You know what I did this weekend. I texted her hateful, snide comments between basically dropping out of civilization all of Saturday and most of Sunday. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to do anything. And for what? Because she had pissed me off so much I couldn't calm down normally. Not only that, but I was also feeling horrible for the stuff I said. I was a wreck for basically two days. And over what? Something she had decided to tell me that had been over and done with for ten years now. What's the point in fighting over that? Yet we found a way to both get irrationally irate over it to the point where threats were being levied and the memory on my phone is replete with some godawful abuse both coming and going.

----

I remember when Breanne was sixteen and I was twenty. We had gotten into a scrimmage over how seriously we were trying to be there for one another (or some other innocuous topic). It hadn't gotten really bad, but I saw these signs were looming. For once, I had the foresight to simmer down before I said something I regretted. I sent her a small note designed to make her laugh in the hopes some peace could be established:

Patrick and Breanne are too old to be fighting, that's what my mom says at least.

Indeed, we are.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers