Last train to Crazytown

I love her.

I really, really love her.

And yet, I can't get around the fights about inconsequential things that turn into so much more than they should.

We fight differently. I try to look at things very logically, and actually end up politicizing my responses (the "I never said that," "Never said it like that," variety), which pisses her off. She hits below the belt with some of her comments and, me being the delicate flower that I am, I wilt in the face of unfair criticism.

At first, these fights would crop up and I thought we just had to learn how to fight with one another. Now, I'm starting to think there's more to it than that.

What if I've been wrong this whole time? What if this wonderful woman who I think is great for me is not what I thought she was?

Doubting yourself is the toughest part of a situation like this. We've pressed on through fights before, and it's been okay, and I just wonder if I'm fooling myself. But why?

Is it her - and more accurately, us - that keeps me here? Or is it me, and my fear of being alone for the rest of my life?

To borrow from Rob Gordon, "Only people of a certain disposition are afraid of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 28. I am of that disposition."

The problem lies within. I feel like if we let go of what we have - something so strong, so passionate, so interesting and fun and great in bed - that we'll both regret it when we look back. And I've spent a ton of my life looking back in regret. I don't wish to add to that list.

SO, blog readers, all three of you: tell me what to do. Is this fixable? Is there a fix for this bridge?

To borrow from the Grammy-winning band Lazyface, "Is anything left?"

Answers should be in essay form.

Alright, you bastards

More blogs are coming, I swear to god. I've been crazy busy with some stuff (including the girl, which I'll update soon) and band (also to be updated).

In the meantime, here ya go, people of Bloggerlandville.