On Soulmates and Happy Endings

Meeting the love of my life didn’t save me, but he inspired me to save myself

When I rewrite the story, I give us a happy ending. Every time.

He swims out to me in the ocean and he kisses me like I thought he wanted to. He swims out to me in the ocean and I kiss him like I meant to. I flirt with him and he understands what I’m trying to say. I take his hand and I don’t let go this time. He doesn’t decide I’m too weird to love. I don’t decide he’s too incomprehensible to hang out with.

He doesn’t get jealous. I don’t get jealous. There is no other person on this planet. I don’t flirt with other guys to get validation or to feel powerful or because it’s what I have learned I am supposed to do. He waits for me like I need him to and he knows I need him to do it.

In real life, we never got our happy ending.

In real life, he shut down first. He blocked me. He walked away. He said none of it meant anything and so I spent two years of my life thinking nothing meant anything, thinking G-D really was dead. I spent two years of my life thinking maybe I really was just crazy.

Now I know that this society turns us all into people who are crazy. Some of us manage to transform ourselves back into what we were always meant to…