Originally written almost one year ago but never published.
Something has always been missing in my life. Not a loss, but a space left empty from the beginning. A heart skipping a beat has become so normal that I thought this must be how everyone feels. After all, why would I be so special?
There are little things in life which occur innocuously, causing us no concern at the time. We move from town to town, change schools, meet new friends, make choices. These events shape us, some in the moment, and some after being catalyzed by another event later in life.
As a fatalist, the past two years have revealed more about my life than I could ever have imagined. This is not a result of choices I’ve made, but more about the awareness of the plane through which my soul moves.
The hole in my life has always been a romantic one. I have never questioned this, because it is one of the constants which spans all of my years. If there is one thing I know about myself, it’s that I am a romantic. My incomplete companion, a presence, or lack thereof, so familiar that it is like a twin.
I have wondered more than once, “Is this it? Is she the one?” I am alone, so I’ve either not encountered her yet, or there was an oversight somewhere in my past. It grieves me to think about how static the past can be.
When a kindred spirit innocently drifts through, it can be like seeing your own doppelganger. You smile in recognition.
But they don’t always smile back.