Stalemate

Stalemate, you are stale. We are getting stale. There is no excitement in your messed up world. There is no sense of achievement in my world trying to figure you out. I hear you. There is no end to your dysfunction. I get it. I have to accept that to accept you. Stalemate, that is too much to ask of me. I have commitments, a child to raise and a self destructive partner with a dark past he cannot deal with. I have set my sights so low; you are jobless, an emotional rollercoaster, a criminal in everyone's eyes, a serial flirt and cheater and in all that, I forgave you and accepted you, found a therapist and encouraged your healing. Now, you tell me I have to accept your dysfunctional response to my downs. I don't even trust you anymore. I don't know how to be down with you anymore. You are stale, mate. It is not exciting or celebratory every time we "successfully" got ourselves out of it. Because I wonder if I should even celebrate it when I should not have you here in my life, in the first place. Our relationship is getting stale.