Am I the Berlin Wall of relationships?

For such an open person – well that’s what I like to think of myself – this really is a scary question to tackle.

But I think it’s time I should.

I love patterns. Patterns on clothes, patterns in the weather – but not the patterns in the men I chose and the outcomes I stitch myself up with.

My break-ups are the Berlin Wall of break-ups. Fortified, rock-solid, impenetrable. And with no positive view of what’s on the other side.

I am not asking for pity, nor I am playing around with self-pity. I am just observing a pattern and a wall so high that I don’t know how I am ever going to climb over it or break through it.

In a weird way, I am truly fascinated by other people’s break-ups. Theirs seems to involve drama and tears. Explanations and epilogues. Mine are engulfed with silence and brain-teasers. All occurring with a wall between that the answers will never be.

Maybe it is me that builds this wall and they simply decide to end it from the other side.

Is it me that puts the blocks in place and when it’s close to finishing they chip in with the final piece?

I guess in a way by protecting myself I make it so easy for them to walk away. I’ve got everything – I’ve got a perfectly built wall why would I need anything else, including them to make the world a better place?

If only they could see Berlin now. A city that rejoices in a wall fallen – bursting with hope of broken patterns and brimming with proud potential.