Ours was supposed to be a tale with a happy ending:
happily-ever-after and all that bullshit.
I know that now, five years later, that it was all bullshit.
But I actually wanted it to go that way.
I actually believed that there was no other way.
Destined to be.
Written in the stars.
I guess I fell in love with the idea of being in-love.
Perhaps I even fell in love with you.
I wanted it so bad;
I did everything I could to make you believe it too,
to make you fall in love with me.
And you almost did.
Or at least for a few years I thought you did.
I thought I did.
I proudly wore my heart on my sleeve.
I paraded about with cupid’s arrow
pierced into the space between my eyes.
I wrote the words that love-stuck lovers write.
I sang the songs that celebrate love’s eternal euphoria.
Together we forged a union,
that we blindly mistook and labeled Love.
Oh cruel world,
you have taught me to love unconditionally,
to bleed my soul for the one I love.
But you never warned
that a soul can only bleed so much before it withers.
Before it fades.
I used to think that being with someone made me happy.
I thought that toughing it out, through the bad times,
was confirmation of our love,
but how could I think anything else?
I was blinding myself from the truth.
Stepping in too close to see the big picture.
Analyzing every minute detail,
when I should have been stepping back,
recounting my motives,
questioning my choice of words,
and evaluating my happiness.
A despondent man looks back at me
when I glance into the mirror.
Today I take that step backwards.
Today I examine my motives,
question my utterance, and assess my happiness.
Today I take a step back and view the big picture.
I know I want more than I need:
your attention, your companionship, and your love.
Is this really too much to ask for?
All of our lives we are fed the myth of Soul Mates:
one other person out there, estranged,
looking for you while you are looking for them.
A perfect half to make you whole;
separated at the point of creation
and cast to the wind,
leaving the possibility of ever finding each other…
all to Fate.
But only in the movies do they ever find each other.
In real life we are ships crossing in the night,
unaware that the other is even there:
for in this sea of people and prospective soul mates
we are too distracted by the beautiful faces
and tempting bodies that surround us.
We are fed the stories
of prince-charming and happiness-ever-after,
all the while realizing
that there will be many toads to kiss
before that special-one magically transforms
into your prince right before your eyes.
So we trick ourselves, most unknowingly
and call that True Love!
We fool ourselves into believing that we are in-love,
that we have found that someone special,
our prince charming.
But all we ever really are is in love with Love.
In love with the idea of being in-love.
For who are we in this world if we have no one to love
and who loves us in return?
At least that is what we are conditioned to believe,
that we are alone
if we do not have that special someone
to live out our dying days with,
that special someone to witness our lives,
to share and validate our existence.
Thank you for helping me see through all that bullshit.