Dangerously Close



Blog: Ramblings of a Mad Woman (on Medium.com)

Soul mates are a ridiculous concept if you bear in mind the number of humans squirming on this globe and the chance of meeting them all. But if one considers the idea, purely from the amount of people you will meet, it seems that a soul mate is a rather improbable being. Those who have met, “the one who got away” and “the one” yet to hear your heartfelt confessions, may not agree with me, but I’ll say this knowing that I’m indeed a dream killer according to most.

Until someone wrecked my self-image and rendered me unknown to myself all over again. This human looked at me with lively eyes, as if he had known me for years and here I was, shaking my hand for the very first time.

“You’re a pragmatic romanticist, you know that?”

And no, I had never considered myself as pro-emotion of any sort. I was an impulsive, illusive and untrustworthy creature; I was no different to the rest of the homo sapiens. As time went by and I watched myself give in to my humanity and the world’s, I realized there was a touch of satisfaction that came with consuming another in pure ecstasy, further than physiological aspect. It came from the beauty of living in perfect love that never aged or withered in time and every encounter was the “great first” because I was in love with a feeling. A petrol bomb if you will, pure energy combustion with zero intent on keeping me warm tomorrow. I thought love had a finite energy potential. Any flame that came from it could burn as bright and long as how you chose to ignite it.

Low Love Expenditure + Small Flame = Lasting Love

To me this boarders on purgatory and I’ll have none of it.

Pure Love + Instant Combustion = getting addicted to a feeling and never the person burning with you.

It’s kind of beautiful in a sad way right?

I have met the most unnerving people in my life. People that unclothe my very being and leave me with nothing but my raw, unpasteurized honesty. Truths like that can leave all your foundations rotten and deadly. Sometimes, this nakedness flips on you and turns from vulnerability to mindless, euphoric bliss and oh boy, it’s far too sweet to stop at one bite. So I’ll say, from this girl’s reality (as dysfunctional as it may be or seem) “soul-mate” means the person you’ll allow to consume you in the most delectable way possible. Perhaps my soul wants to be consumed. Perhaps happily ever after isn’t a long folktale after all.

But if I may escape my destructive and pragmatic tendencies and waltz with my romantic self rather and appeal to my higher being; often you meet people that know you. Moreover, they know your soul without a single explanation. How can this be, how is it possible? Past lives? Interwoven energies beyond our control? Or dumb luck and observant social opponents? Now I’ve tried to rationalize these encounters for days and hours and the mathematics doesn’t add up without a glitch (and I’ve taken the scientific, psychological and philosophical routes but a single answer for a multifaceted problem isn’t an answer at all). So there, I’ll give in to the notion that somehow some people can see your soul in a way others can’t. I won’t dare lend further words to such an idea, at least for now.

Energy potential is a given. People will continue to burn as long as love is able to ignite. How long the flame lasts is up to you. Ultimately you fuel your own fire. Keep your flame with yourself alive forever and it won’t be so cold when the candle wick burns out.

And if you don’t buy that:
love your own fire first, it’s sexier that way…
Kisses, L.
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