I have a question.
Who came up with the concept of “soul mates”? I want to smack them. Like, it’s the crappiest crap I’ve ever come across.
It’s like God made us in his own image, only super flawed. No matter how much we airbrush ourselves, we are never perfect.
There are always things we can’t let go of. People we can’t let go of, at least in our heads. These people? Soul mates.
I used to be skeptical. I’d find the whole thing dumb. I’d laugh at people who’d cry over having lost their soul mates.
I used to be one of those non-believers. I’d make fun of my friends when they’d tell me things like, “There’s a perfect someone tailor made for you, just for you. But you won’t always end up together.” When I don’t end up with this person, I’ll always miss him? Like, what is that? I’ll never click with anyone else because I’m not meant to click with anyone else but him? And where is he, I’ve always wondered, is he even real? Does he even exist? That’s a lot of questions, I know.
And then things happened. Like they always happen.
You know how I mentioned we’re not perfect? I fell headfirst into a bottomless wheelie bin of love. There’s always one person you end up loving so much, you don’t want to jinx it, you protect them and you hide them away like you were carrying a giant diamond in your bra. But you end up losing that diamond anyway because you weren’t careful enough and now, you can never find that sparkle again. Am I making sense?
Every relationship has its drama. Let’s face facts, a relationship without fights would be dead, flat and naked – about as flat and naked as my face without eyeliner.
That’s besides the point. When I was younger I’d ask myself, if there’s someone who’s your so called soul mate, why is it that you can’t always have them? Why do we get into mindless relationships and subject ourselves to trial and error looking for The One? Is love really worth it?
With age, comes restraint.
I have lost track of the number of times I’ve wanted to scream in public every time a relationship went sour.
And the weirdest part is, now that I think I’ve found him, he’s not even within frequent-meeting-distance. I know he’s the one because he lets me talk makeup, and gummy bears and chocolate popcorn and pizza and doesn’t ever get mad at me. Not even when I show him screengrabs of the randomest crap imaginable. And I don’t want to let go.
I don’t know where this is going, where it will end. What lies on the horizon. What lies beneath. If we’ll ever meet halfway. Now you know why I want to smack the person who came up with this concept. It’s the most depressing ish I’ve ever come across – and I’ve seen people die at work. The not knowing part, the uncertainty, the hesitation – it kills.