Love Somehow Slipped Away

Dear My True Love,

Would you believe me if I told you we've loved many lifetimes before? And that I've sat in my room praying, for many more. When we first locked eyes, I could feel your kindred soul brush across mine. I instantly knew that this connection had to be divine. The gentle caress of your eyes appraising me from head to toe caused goosebumps to bloom; instantly everyone else melted away, it was just us in the room. Like a deer in headlights, your silent approval ceased all motion. My mind became hazy as I sipped your love potion. I could feel my heart beating so rapidly within my chest, the stirring of emotions simply too much to digest. I could see the flicker of surprise in your eyes, as you held my gaze. It's like we finally found our way home, at the end of a maze. I fled the scene, like a criminal being chased. Talking aloud to myself, as I steadily paced. I felt exposed, more naked than a newborn baby. Perhaps, I slightly overreacted. Possibly, maybe. It scared me, and I could tell it also had you shook. We had this unexplainable connection, the kind you'd find in a romance book. Just a glance from a man should not have had me in such a tizzy, but I couldn't help but feel light heated, so unbalanced and dizzy. A hand enclosed mine and I knew it was yours, I could feel my temperature rising as sweat dropped from my pores. You smiled at me, and I knew the battle was lost. I was going to make you mine, no matter the cost.

If this was some sappy rom com on Netflix, then perhaps my much younger sister would mail him this letter, and we could have our happily ever after. But this is reality, and unfortunately, there's no one here to intervene on my behalf. Yes, our first meeting was indeed magical. It was love at first sight. I can recall that day with as much clarity and ease as I can recite my ABC's and 123's.

First Meeting

The faint sound of serene music feathered its way down aisle seven, while a homely figure (i.e. me), clumsily tossed two bags of salted potato crisp into my already colossal mountain of frozen tv dinners. I found myself humming along, putting on a show that would certainty garner itself a standing ovation. My semiprofessional dance moves rendered both Mr. Redenbacher and Mr. Newman speechless, and I sashayed past them to head to the candy section. As I perused the savory snacks, something akin to the sound of bleating sheep began to infiltrate my personal space. Someone was whistling enthusiastically, confidently, and noticeably off key. I glanced up with a frown on my face, and directly into the glimmering hazel eyes of a stranger. I felt hypnotized. I stared for what felt like minutes but was surely no more than a couple of seconds. The sound of a can of mixed nuts noisily crashing to the ground behind me, broke the trance, and I quickly ran.

***********************************************************

Yes, you read that right, I ran. I ran from that aisle to the furthest aisle I could find, not expecting him to give chase. Running was never my preferred method of exercise, but somehow throughout the entirety of my relationship with him, I found myself running. Not always physically, most of the time, mentally. When we first met, like puzzle pieces, everything seemed to easily slide into place. We navigated the relationship almost robotically since we were so in tune. He would finish my sentences, finish the meals I was too stuffed to finish, and even helped me complete my chores in a timelier fashion. We would stay up all night and laugh hours on end about nothing at all before blissfully falling asleep side by side. I was sure this was what love was all about in its entirety. As the years flew by, so did our ability to be of one accord. We couldn't seem to agree on anything, and I wondered what happened. Abruptly, my fairytale somehow became a nightmare within a span of three years. Even the most minute things became a source of conflict. I got tired of it all, so I RAN.

He tried repeatedly to convince me to fight for us, but I was tired of the fighting between us. If things were meant to be, shouldn't they be easy to maintain? I was convinced that the ebbs and flow within a relationship weren't natural, and somehow an indicator that we were no longer meant to be. I was so blinded by our minor disagreements, that I couldn't think rationally. I defined love by some unrealistic expectations set in place by some of my favorite childhood fairytales. I defined love by someone else's standards, not realizing that love is something that can't be defined. Yes, Webster's provides us with a general textbook definition, but it doesn't truly tell us what love looks like nor how to successfully maintain it. Because love isn't some one size fits all piece of clothing, it's specially tailored to fit each couple. It took many years of self-reflection for me to grasp this.

I wrote about the one who got away in an inverse poem last month,

As I prepare to close out this journal entry, I snuggle deeply with my favorite blanket. I turn on the tv and prepare to watch Serendipity tonight. I wonder if love and I will miraculously cross paths again someday.