Soulmates
Soulmates
You remind me of my ex-wife from a past life who I committed suicide to escape from when I made myself wings of feathers and wax, and fell to my death when I flew them into the sun. You just laughed and floated over me as I drowned.
They say birthmarks are entry wounds that show where we died before, and dreams are just memories we carried with us from the other side, which is why you looked so familiar the first time I saw you. Your feet never touched the ground.
My opening line was “you look like my daughter,” you smiled and asked “how old is she?” I said, “well if it all works out, five years from now she’ll be three, but I’m in no rush.” It felt like a third person existed between us.
And I wasn’t sure who we were before, or who are supposed to be, but I knew that on the other side of the world planted deep inside a forest there is a tree with our names carved into its side, and written in a language neither of us speak is inscribed
“forever is a pretty short time looking back on it,” and even though we may not be able to read it, we would instantly recognize our handwriting as evidence that we were part of the same tribe that died out a thousand years ago, and we would brace ourselves for
the earthquake as our souls shake and vibrate higher. We were sent here to repopulate so there was no time to apologize for everything we were about to put each other through. You just grabbed my hand and said “I look forward to getting tired of you.”
God don’t make mistakes, but people do. Souls only know wavelengths, and communicate through music and colors and sound; they don’t always remember to leave the key under the mat, or come home before 3 a.m., or put the toilet seat down, or
make sure to hold your hand whenever we’re out in public, because the flesh doesn’t understand it’s just a vessel full of flaws. Soulmates exist to serve as a reflection of how truly damaged we really are, how hurt, desperate and unexamined we are.
I never asked for a soulmate, just someone who hates all the same things I do, and in you I confronted all of the things I hated in myself, like a mirror that reveals the first time you realize you are no longer beautiful. My ugly is going take some getting used to.
I used to fear going to sleep next to you because I would get tangled in your hair and you would roll over, strangling me, leaving gasping for air in one of those dreams where you can’t quite wake yourself up, until I realized that you only hogged the sheets so you could
expose me to the cold and wake up the other side of me whenever my dreams got off track. My arms would always go numb so I could never fight back. So instead of starting a war with you I would just kiss you on your cheek. I need you here with me.
Maybe we’re just meant to walk through life trying to fill each-other-sized holes in ourselves. Feeling like we swapped souls at a crowded train stop like two strangers who picked up the wrong bag and were forced to wear the clothes they found inside.
I have that sweater you’ve been looking for, it’s a little stretched out but it still smells just fine. Find me again so we can make amends, or at least swap bags one last time. Everyone deserves a seventh chance.
I guess I’ll see you next lifetime when you and I are butterflies and during our migration we can gently clip wings and create a vibration that causes the tides to rise off the shores of Hawaii and forms a tsunami that crashes into the coast of Japan
and floods some kind of nuclear reactor that causes the world to spin backwards and we can finally rest our wings on the sand and look back on all we destroyed with a smile, and I’ll know that it was all worth it just to be with you when the world ends.
More Posts from Nikrichard and Others
This is what it sounds like...
I'm not afraid. All of this is new and uncertain. Fear comes from familiarity - the expectation of what you're about to lose, the anticipation that all those beast you tamed will one day turn on you. I used to be afraid that I would work my whole life for my dreams only to realize that I didn't really want them once they came true, but I don't have the privilege of fear anymore. I no longer use my superpowers to peer into the future because that tends to ruin things. Anything that happens from now is unplanned and off script.
I want what I want as quickly as possible to make sure it's something I still want once I get it. If not, gives me enough time to want something else.
If 2015 taught me anything, it is that everything is fleeting. Even the recurring moments that we come to expect are a bunch of temporary events strung together over the course of a lifetime - If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change. #newyearsameme
Every time I see my Grandmaw she asks me why I never come around. I tell her I’ve been busy doing things, like missing you, and leaving town.
Yet, you make me feel guilty whenever I ask for your company; I’m too needy, get too attached, you can’t be all up under me. And I told my Grandmaw what you said, that I should spend more time alone, get to know me, find myself, do a few things on my own.
Now, her memory ain’t the best, but she remembers that she never liked you much. Said that you were the needy one, so out of line and out of touch.
She told me that she missed me, but I’ve been going about it wrong. Grandmaw said we should treat love as a visitor and never as a home.
What is freedom and do I really want it? Freedom makes me uneasy. The idea of having infinite possibilities makes me anxious and lazy, because I feel like “free” can always be put off until tomorrow, or after I take my nap. Endlessness is daunting and can trick you into thinking that you have way more time than you actually do. I’m not sure if I completely trust myself with the autonomy over my decisions, because I change my mind often. I’m indecisive. I’m a Gemini. By nature we are lovers and fighters. What is freedom’s desire? Who is freedom’s enemy? I think the only freedom we seek is the freedom to choose what we want to be a slave to; love, time, money, art, wanderlust. I have been a slave to all of those things and for some reason have a desire to crawl back to them every time they let me go.
You’ll Know This Is About You
I have been a different person with different people. I sometimes become who they want me to be, or I’ll retreat when I feel like they expect too much. I’m the strong, silent type who talks a lot, and falls in love too quick, and breaks hearts too often, and is always there when I’m needed, and never answers the phone when it rings, and has a heart of gold, and a heart of coal, and is too selfish to ever consider anyone else, and will give away the very last of his things…
at least thats whats they say, and they would all be telling the truth.
I’m looking forward to discovering who I‘m going to become with you,
who will you turn me into?
I’ve been cursed with a vivid memory. I remember everything. Mistakes I’ve made, people who hurt me, that girl in the 4th grade who told me we would get married at 28, all the criticism I’ve gotten, the bad things my friends say about people when they’re not around, the text message I accidentally read when I looked over your shoulder last night, and everything in-between. A vivid memory is unforgiving. The world can be a hard place to navigate when you’re constantly being reminded about all of the things that didn’t go right, or trying to smile at all of your critics. Sometimes I just want to shut down and close myself off, and take a break from pretending. Acting like I don’t remember what happened yesterday, or last year, or when I was 8 becomes exhausting.
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