I am pretty sure there aren't very many people reading my blog posts so I am just going to go ahead and let it all out. Fuck it.
Lately there have been many things weighing heavily on my mind. But, when put into perspective it all boils down to one thing ... loving and being loved.
Man, where to start, where to start?
Have you ever found yourself in a position where the thoughts are so rampant that for a moment you can't determine where things start and where they end? Honestly, though, if I were to really quiet my mind and focus I could pinpoint with precision where everything started. Furthermore, I could say with great certainty that it hasn't ended. Not yet.
So, in an attempt to unwind the reel of musings, I'll try to start from the beginning. Bare with me. And though this may not make any sense to anyone, at least I know that it's been put out into the ether.
For as far back as I can remember, all I've ever wanted was to be loved unconditionally, wholly, without regret or reproach. To be loved for my virtues as well as my faults. To be accepted for all that I can give and anything I cannot. I've never expected perfect love. That doesn't exist. But true love I have always believed in.
Throughout the years my escapades in love have been a fallacy to the heart. A dream obtained momentarily, and just like a dream, lost with the opening of my eyes.
Fleeting. Passè. Cursory.
It has been this cycle of love grained and love lost that converted my perpetual optimist into an unequivocal pessimist.
But my brain remains divided—torn between the unfailing romantic and the bitter self-protector. Split between the woman yearning to be accepted, cared for, treated with tenderness and understanding, and the woman who has become as cold as ice due to the myriad wounds to the soul.
"What is true and enduring romantic love?" I wonder sometimes. My mind concocts so many images and ideas.
True romantic love starts with a look ...
It's hard to explain. The man/woman/person who loves you will look through you, into your heart. See you. Like, really see you. There eyes would shine with wonder, awestruck at the mere idea of you. His/her/their eyes would speak to you ... tell you that he's/she's/they've seen you before in another life.
Next it would be a feeling ...
This person would feel familiar. Like the moment you come together, you've know each other forever. Time disappears and becomes immaterial. Then, in that instant you think to yourself, "How have I lived this long without you in my life? Where have you been?"
But it goes even further. This person would not be put off by any faults you may have. Illness, looks, race, creed, color, religion ... none of it matters. It become irrelevant as well.
When you are with him/her/them, you know that you would walk to the ends of the earth for this person. Battle anything that comes your way. You would know that life wouldn't be time enough and eternity would be a blessing.
You would love everything about them; their smell, their touch and their kiss. Oh, their kiss. Kissing this person would take you on a trip to Shangri-La, beyond the sun, moon and stars.
Yet, there is still more ...
This person would also be imperfect, and this would be absolutely alright with you. You wouldn't judge each other for the shortcomings but rather love one another even more. Why? Because you've accepted that you're both only human. And that would be okay too.
You would want to create a home with this individual. Be with him/her/them forever. You would laugh together, cry together, fart together, be silly together, have profound and superficial conversations together. You would enjoy each other's company but also know when you need some time apart, and respect it. You would do for one another equally without hesitation or complaints. You would listen to one another without scrutiny. Have trust and faith in one another. Have each other's back in the good, bad and ugly. You would be life partners in all of what life has to give.
And with all the trails, tribulations and happy moments you would still look into each other's eyes as if you were God's gift to one another every single day. You would be content to be together forever. Enduring love sits in contentment not perpetual euphoria. But just as easily, perpetual euphoria comes from every day contentment.
Now here comes the somewhat twisted part ...
I swear I can feel him. I can hear his heart beating, his breath on the back of my neck. Sometimes I can sense his presence around me. In my dreams he comes to life—his touch, his kiss, his care is as tangible as anything that is real. He talks to me, comforts me, sees me and no one else.
In my heart of hearts I know he is real. He's out there waiting for me. And, more than that, I know he can feel me too.
He's so real to me that it probably seems insane. At times, when I am in the quiet of night, I can taste his kisses and feel his caresses. I close my eyes and see his tender smile. He's oh so real to me. More real than many things in my life. And yet, he is a paradox. Real and surreal. A ghost, a fantastic expectation, and an illusion.
This makes me feel like my mind is playing tricks on me. Like I am never going to find this eternal love and my psyche has decided that perennial torment is going to be my fate.
So often I feel empty, broken, sad, lonely and incomplete.
The issue is that some people translate this as not loving oneself. And that is farthest from the truth. I love myself wholly. I respect myself, cherish myself and care for myself. I love myself more than anyone can love me. So, a lack of loving myself is not the problem.
The problem is that my soul mate is an obscure and torturous notion.