All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten” it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack.
This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?
The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you,” and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.
At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours.
Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.
But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.
The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. They’re what you might call a soulmate.
They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole.
And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one.
I just upgraded to an iPhone 5C for my personal phone and got a 5S in the mail for work
One might say I’m living ~the corporate dream~
I caught a cab home earlier. It was a short ride - 2 miles, 10 minutes at most - and the driver asked me where I was from. He was surprised I was raised here, telling me that he was from Eritrea and that I reminded him exactly of people from back home. Curious, I asked why, to which he responded, “Your smile. It is kind, and it is rare. People here are always so worried and impatient… but you laugh, and it’s like true happiness is just coming from you, from your soul, and it’s real. You can’t make that up.”
I didn’t know what to say. But, I am happy, and I am grateful for that.
About those serious life talks with a looming question: “What am I going to do?” Everyone is in the same boat. The thought persists constantly, whether we acknowledge its presence or not.
There is something beautiful and incredibly terrifying about the uncertainty… But I believe the most important part to remember is that we feel the most fulfilled when we’re helping others. A simple good morning goes a long way. There is nothing more prestigious or honorable than someone sincerely and completely giving the gift of themselves.
Are you here alone? asks a boy of the girl seated
silently by the window, gazing idly at her cell phone as the
patrons begin to leave, explosive chatter resonating out
the door while the darkness slowly creeps in.
I exist now in the same way I came into the world, she replies,
showing this is a question that has been analyzed many times
before: exasperated, irritated, confused, disheartened.
Did you know that I breathe, too? Instantly, she looks up,
a smile threatening to spread over her face, as she glimpses
sincerity in a world where division seems easier than unity.