Lost Souls

Dear Love,

It’s raining. Not the gentle calm rains in the middle of a season that make you re-evaluate the beauty of nature even in the worse of storms, but a more cruel rain. The wind howls and through the small crack in the wall sinks into this dank room and chills me. I’m reminded of a wolf—slick, quick, and I have fallen under attack. I’m a prey to this weather; it can play such cruel tricks to my mood. A melancholy feeling has entered my soul, gnawing away at the warmth of my heart. The rain seems to represent an end—washing away the past with the fury of an ex-girlfriend ripping to shred old love letters and throwing away possessions she thought you would never want to see again.

I wonder if I will ever see you again.

Sometimes I wonder whatever would possess me to write such a letter, to you, long gone and moved on. Two souls, two hearts, who had desperately hoped to become one. Yet somehow the mold did not quite seem to fit. I wonder why. I look up at the stars occasionally and I’ll ask them. I have yet to figure out their twinkling code, though. The answer evades me for now. Perhaps on your journey to discover the world with a different set of eyes, you have come across some answers. Yet…do I write in hopes to hear them? Would I want to hear them? I fear they may only depress me. Of course, the unknowing leads me to depression anyway. It’s funny how our moods reflect the weather (or, is it the other way around?).

I know you told me it would be for the best if we gave each other space.

I guess I just did not realize how hard it was going to be. How easily my heart seemed to attach to yours like they had become sewn together by the hands of an angel. Did you not think it would be painful? Are you ever pained by images of me as you close your eyes to sleep and in the moment just before you doze off, you think of me, and you have to catch your breath because for a moment your heart stopped beating? Does that happen to you or is it just me? You told me you did not believe in soul mates.

I told you I did.

Was that my first mistake to driving you away? I’m sorry because it was never my purpose to. Just because I wanted to be with you did not mean I automatically assumed we were made to each other—of course, there was always that underlying thought that…maybe. It could never be that simple, though. You had your own life you wanted to live and I had mine. They clashed in places where compromises could not be made…right? We made the right choice.

Or…at least that is what I keep telling myself.

Maybe someday our paths will cross again and we’ll know. We’ll be the first people to discover every meaning and truth to love. Or at least…we can pretend. Scientists in a world where logic makes no sense, and yet everything will make perfect sense to us. If there is ever an “us” again…you may not wish for that to ever happen. What’s in the past stays in the past…

And the rain is now washing it all away.

I guess that’s why I am writing this letter. I want to hang on to the only hope I have—that you’ll someday come back. It’s what gets me up in the morning and what helps me sleep at night. Maybe while discovering the world, you’ll discover there are such things as soul mates and you’ll want to come back to me. I know. I shouldn’t be thinking such things. You’ll shake your head and give me that look—that condescending “you’re such a naïve girl” look. I loathe that look, but I love you.

I guess I was wondering…do you love me too?

                                                                               Take Care—wherever you may be.
                                                                         Stay safe. And I’ll keep the door open
                                                                               In case you ever want to come in.