The Absence of Doubt

I saw this a million years ago.

It struck me. I wasn’t sure how, but it did. Enough to save it.

I did not like the idea of being half of anything.

 

In the time called before I disappeared into men. Carved off chunks of myself to fit them.

I never knew who I was outside of how I belonged to other people.

It made me a ghost girl and a pretty shitty partner, because the parts of myself I sliced off were never really gone and they would come back kicking and screaming to be recognized. So I would pick up my pieces and leave, just to do the exact same things again.

Until I stopped.

I took my time in the cabin in the woods and put myself back together.

And I really liked it. I actually quite like myself.

Had a few crushes here and there and fought against my old ingrained habit of molding myself around them, and mostly succeeded.

It came with the realization that I had lost everyone I had deemed important up until that point, and not only had I survived it, I had thrived.

Also, they weren’t important. I wasn’t myself, so the girl they loved was just a reflection of what they wanted me to be.

That isn’t love.

In fairness I didn’t love them either. Covetousness is not love, nor is dependence.

Lost in love is still lost and loss.

When I started tending to my own soul, really listening to what I wanted and needed and actually doing those things, I met a new manner of men. Men who would get excited when my eyes lit up about something I was excited about. I felt heard and appreciated, more food for my soul.

And I thought, wow, it doesn’t get better than this.

Once my soul was healed and whole, her mates began to appear, and it was good amen.

But they wandered off one by one. Still in my heart, kicking the shit out of it late at night (Mark Harpur)

Which always made me think, if they were really that important, they’d be here.

So I learned my lessons, figured out the color red when it came to flags and just learned to enjoy them while they lasted.

And I figured Plato was full of shit.

I wanted this to be true instead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt whole and good and I was happy being alone with myself.

I am alright being wrong.

Once upon a time, on an island far, far away, a voice in my head demanded I kiss a boy before he left the bar I was in.

I complied.

I closed my eyes for a minute and saw us together in a big white bed.

We were smiling and naked.

2 days later I learned the true meaning of compulsion. There was no force nature nor I possessed that could keep my hands off him, they flew on their own. So did my words.

2 days after that, the vision of the big white bed came to fruition and it was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and I have felt a lot of things.

He feels the same.

The absence of doubt.

The ecstasy of perfect recognition ~ S.K.

I didn’t know what it was beyond magic.

I posted a lot of articles, trying to remember, trying to leave it where it was, just some magical night and a new experience.

But I couldn’t.

Neither could he.

I posted an article about that night, and another about the crushing feeling of loss when he drove away and I flew home.

Someone, and I wish I could remember her name, said “this is the most accurate description of a twin flame meeting that I have ever read.”

I panicked.

I’ve long rejected that term and idea as new age bullshit propaganda.

I have met soul mates, and that was good enough, amen.

It’s funny because I have long recognized the old gods as my gods. The myths were my bible to be read and decoded and followed.

I love those gods because they are fallible, somewhat human and tricksy as fuck.

I did some research, just out of curiosity, and as i was reading I thought to myself, “oh fuck, this is exactly what happened.”

 

No one wants to acknowledge only having half a soul. It’s not an easy thing to admit. Until I realized my half is full as is.
This is just some kind of cosmic bonus.

A gift from my tricksy gods.

I have no idea what the future holds, except I am heading back east.

He asked me to come home.