My Tragic Flaw, Revisited

Tragic Flaw;
–noun Literature.
A flaw in the character of the protagonist of a tragedy that brings the protagonist to ruin or sorrow.

Do you remember on Monday when I pointed out that holding on to things “might” be my tragic flaw?

Well.

It turns out acknowledging the presence of said flaw does nothing to get rid of it. Because, according to every literature class I have taken over the past 4 years, the tragic flaw will always lead to a downfall. There is simply no help for it. So the fact that on Sunday night the boy and I both wisely agreed that friendship wasn’t in the stars for us and I left His house in the early hours of the morning filled with resolve… really, when it comes right down to it, means nothing. Wednesday night {a mere 3 days after this conversation took place!} found us nobly {i.e. idiotically, masochistically…} recommitting ourselves to the cause of friendship for no logical reason I can think of other than the fact that we both “need” a friend, and we both enjoy each other’s company. And these two reasons are apparently enough to risk a second backfiring like the one that resulted in the 4.5 hour long “conversation” that was Sunday night.

So my excuse is my tragic flaw. I don’t know what his is.

And the only hope for me lays in the possibility that just maybe my life isn’t a tragedy. Perhaps it is a comedy after all, and this misguided friendship won’t lead to "great loss and misfortune". I’ll have to keep a running total of the events of my life to know for sure, à la Harold Crick in Stranger Than Fiction. {Skip ahead to 5:50 if you don’t have 8 minutes to spare.}