“We were soulmates.”
Our first conversation became our only conversation in person. How difficult it was to sit and stare at you for a long moment, as though searching your mind. We slowly drifted apart until I decided it was better to walk our separate paths than to stay. But when I left, I didn’t just leave. I was struck with the pain of a broken heart, and it wasn’t easy for me. Because deciding to leave you was the scariest decision I had ever made in my whole life. No, it wasn’t selfishness. I left because I believed that God had plans for both of us. I left with questions that remained unanswered, daydreams that lingered all the time, and a promise to see you again one day.
And so I did.
The feeling when soulmates meet again after more than a quarter of century is like catching up after decades and picking up from where they left off. Yes, our souls had known each other in a different life before and have now recognized each other in a grotesque backdrop. How lucky do two people have to be and fall for each other at the exact perfect moment in time and the exact right way? We were the lucky ones for a moment in time that I wish had stood frozen.
There is this huge pain that perturbs my heart whenever I hold your gaze, knowing that I can only love you from afar because there’s something that’s holding me back.
“If only I came back a bit earlier.”
And just like the cobbled streets that run down to a tiny harbor, you and I are both extended in a particular direction. We both go together in a parallel reality, and there’s no possibility for both of us to fuse together as one. Not now. Not tomorrow. And perhaps never again.
Yet I still continue my little daydream in a place where everything seemed perfect and right—the kind of sleeplike altered state of consciousness that I want to stay mesmerized in, where we have a story that reads like a fairytale with its own happily ever after. Maybe this is why lonely people love to sleep all the time, because their dreams are better than their reality.