Asking the postman

I had a friend I knew since I was in middle school and over time we realized there was a bond that stood still among the ups and downs of life and more importantly through the changes and transformations in ourselves. In our late twenties we converged and being married was on our minds. When he brought it up it wasn’t so much an exciting surprise but as if we were in each other’s thoughts as we always were and we both uncovered this truth at the same time, that we were always married, as if we were born married.

It’s not only that I felt married to him as a person but to the laws of love too. The law that said this persons happiness is equal to my own. If I fell in love with someone new and they made me happy, it would be perfectly natural for me to sacrifice that. Not because I was giving it up for a greater happiness, it wasn’t a utilitarian calculation. It was a truth and principle in itself. I was already there, I was inside the happiness. the happiness in relation to him was no longer a decision or calculation, it had gone deeper into my mind and personality. I had knowledge that he made me happy the way I knew how to ride a bike. If you asked me I wouldn’t be able to describe it.

The problem I had when we broke up was when I would meet someone that made me happy. There was no sense of oh i feel excited to be here with this person. I didn’t know who that ‘me’ was that was supposed to be happy. It sounds like I lost my sense of self or something, maybe it was but it wasn’t something so tragic like that. It just very calmly seemed like an irrelevant question to ask myself if this new person made me happy, would they be good for me? It was as useless as asking the postman what time the shoe store closed.

We grew together for so long, we were like trees grafting into one. Separation was brutal and arduous. It was traumatic to my flesh and bones and nerves. I felt as though something was wrong in my mind, like I had lost someone that was more myself than I am. I was like a rolling seed, unsure of where the roots go down and the stalk goes up because I didn’t know which way is gravity and which way the sunlight. I rolled for years.

You might hear this story and think, how? How can you walk away from perfect unconditional love, what more can you be searching for? I asked myself this too and the answer is that I am not looking for love and that I never was. I am looking for truth.

A lot of people search for love because it’s easier than searching for the truth. Love is comforting and you know what to expect. It is kindness and goodness and a hand holding yours. But truth is a wildcard, it can mean anything. Are you a villain or a hero or a idiot or genius? I think for people like me, I can’t accept love until I found my truth, until I have earned it. I don’t think everyone is like that, but I was confused because many girls are expected to seek acceptance first. I just didn’t want it.

Back to how I am doing. I am surviving by trying to become more like him. More reckless and bold and quick. But what I would really like more than anything is to have a reason to return to the old me. The old me that was shy and scared until he protected me. I wasn’t all weak, but I was weak in ways he was strong. I don’t want to be strong in every way on my own forever. also I just miss the old me. I’m starting to miss myself more than I miss him. Maybe through becoming him I can see myself through his eyes and I can feel his love always. It is always a part of me.

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