there had been times when i wanted to just give it up, pack my things, and call it quits.
and then i think: no, things are still worth saving. so i stay and work to make things better. then things do look up and do seem to get better for a little while, and i feel it's good that i stayed and let things run their course and now everything's mostly settled.
and things gets fucked up again.
it's a cycle which reaches full circle more quickly now and i hardly remember why i even am into the middle of it in the first place. i hate not trusting people. i hate going so low as to sneaking around, keeping my ears open, trying to get information that is being withheld from me. i hate being told one thing, and finding out another and not being to bring it out because i feel guilty about snooping.
i hate being lied to, especially if it was about something that i've repeatedly said is okay with me and should not be kept behind my back. i hate not being told something that i think i should know.
i hate having to resort to making outbursts if a quiet talk could have fixed the problem sooner.
but i will go home, sleep and in the morning i'll decide to give things another chance. and then the cycle continues until i finally to give up and walk away because there's nothing left for me to save.
hindsight is always 20/20.
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