The Warning Light

People say that all good things must come to an end. I imagine this to be the most upsetting part of life. On the other hand, I have a strong feeling that if the things that are so good in our lives didn’t come to an end; they would more than likely turn to shit in the long run. We would appreciate things less, almost certainly.

Like listening to the last track of your favourite album, knowing deep down, but not acknowledging, that there is no more; like the last kiss with a lover; and like the last breath of life, if you know that this will be the last, sadness is felt, but history is acknowledged, and while on many levels you don’t want to leave at all, you are aware that you must, for something else is waiting—another love, another life, or more simply, your new favourite album.

Another thing you hear people saying is how you need to work at a relationship. I think it’s fair to say, in general, the opening months of a relationship don’t require an awful lot of work beyond “the chase”. The rest is games—whether you’re playing hard to get, or downright getting to know each other.

It is in the later days that the work begins. Is this tiring work a signal of unsuitability, or is it something that is experienced—frequently—in even the most suited relationships? Either way, I find myself asking, how much should you have to work at a relationship? Shouldn’t there be a warning light on my body somewhere indicating an overload? I wouldn’t want to actually drive myself mentally or physically into the ground just to confirm my hardship to keep a difficult relationship alive.

Giving up feels like a weakness for most people, but perhaps, it is an achievement of sorts. We can acknowledge that we tried. We should also realise that we have our strengths, and we have our weaknesses, and ultimately, we can’t win every time.

Like an album that fails after track 13, that could have been a work of art if left to this many tracks, a relationship that is forced along will leave a less fond memory upon it’s finale.

And no matter how far into the future we make plans for ourselves and our significant other, if the warning light appears—a holiday, a mutually owned dog, or a house in the most perfect leafy avenue—won't save what we are known to call “us”.