soulmates

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

I’ve always evaded this question. If you’ve met “the one”, you can say yes and it’s romantic. If you’re single (and have at least a fraction of a mental illness) you’re worried about sounding desperate, arrogant, naive, silly... like a damsel in distress waiting for some chap to come save her from herself.

I’ve always felt like being a romantic was something to be ashamed of. Like it made me weak or otherwise undesirable. So, for years I forced myself to be tough. To continue to build walls around my heart until they’re so high that even I forget what’s on the other side.

Yes, I believe in soulmates. There is no room for doubt in my mind. He could be anywhere. Doing anything. Breathing the same air. Laughing somewhere I’ll never see. Hell, I might already know him but not know it’s him.  For now, we’re just two people out here, living. Passing time. Carrying hearts filled with pain and optimistic longing. The kind that feels like the last stretch of a long drive to the beach — the windows down, the air changing, that giddy knowing that something beautiful is waiting just ahead.