Dear reader, I do believe in love. I believe it is truly inspiring to find someone who you enjoy the company of so much so that you feel the overwhelming want to spend copious moments of your life with.
However, I don’t believe in the idea of finding someone who completes us, because it’s backwards to me. We, as humans, are whole even before we find our special someone.
My soul doesn’t need anyone else. I’m whole on my own.
Circa 1997, after watching Cinderella for the first time, my 5-year-old self had proclaimed that I was indeed just like the princess and my prince was somewhere out there waiting for me, at a party in a white tux trimmed with gold.
It didn’t seem like such a fairy tale when I was younger, but as I progress into my twenty something age, it’s become more and more apparent to me that the term soulmate is nothing but a fairytale. That perfect someone who was made for you seems so tangible for romantics, but is nothing but a storyline ending to a cartoon you watched nearly twenty years ago.
Many people spend precious moments of their lives changing themselves to attain attraction from strangers in the street, in hopes of charming someone, who could very-well be the right one.
A man can tell you you’re beautiful a million times over and you may blush. He might whisk you away to the local coffee shop and he may tell you your golden hair sparkles when it hits the sunlight just right.
He may tell you your lips are the same shade of red of his guitar, which sits idly underneath his clothes in his closet. That he can spend hours staring into your brown eyes, because they’re the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. But what will all these instant gratification compliments mean when you’re old and grey?
The problem is, fairytales don’t give you sequels that go that far.
When the words, I love you, slip through the cracks of your lips, there should be a vast sense of respect for that person who stands before you. For they are the person you love, for all their flaws, for all of what makes them beautiful, for all of what makes them hurt, angry, nervous, curious, and wonder. You love them — not because they complete you — but because they ignite the fuel in you to piece yourself together.
If you ask me if I’ve ever found love, I’ll tell you I find it in moments of my life every single day. I find love in the moments I step into a new city, in moments I remember past adventures, in the moments I make new friends and in the moments I spend laughing with old ones. I won’t find a very special person who completes me, because I’m already complete.
Just a reminder to you, dear reader, you hold the pieces of yourself. It’s up to no one but you to find them in your passions, in your anger, in your urges, in your cravings, and in your curiosity. Whoever falls in love with those pieces thereafter is merely a charm on the bracelet of your being.