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What is love but the meeting of two souls, of two minds, of two bodies.

When two hearts beat faster and faster. When the two spirits connect to create a bond. A bond no battle, no distance can break.

A connection even time would lie down and be still for.

Love. Desire. Passion.

Ever since that night, something has changed in me. There’s a storm, a conflict within that I can’t understand nor can I face it head on.

I finally decided to let the thoughts in. The ones I guess I’d held back all this time. The doubt that always stayed at the back. The one I never allowed passage. I finally allowed it in. And I am now so scared of where it’s taking me. I let myself consider, even if just for a moment, that I don’t love him as much as I think I do. Maybe I’ve just made myself believe it, and it’s not actually that strong. But then when we’re together, it’s so easy. It feels so natural. It feels right.

Is that habit? Is it because of the history? The attachment? But then why is it that even when I can let the doubt in, I fall apart if I let myself think that he’s not my soul mate. If he isn’t, then it explains that tiny, minuscule doubt that lingers at the back of my mind questioning why it ended. But then what goes unexplained, is the fact that I’ve been in love with him for five years. The fact that I look into his eyes and the world makes sense. I look into his eyes and I know everything is going to be okay.

I’ve honestly tried to question myself, to make this easier. I’ve dared to ask myself if maybe I made myself love him this much? If I convinced myself that he is the one whereas in reality, maybe he’s not? Maybe I’m addicted to love? Maybe it’s the idea of having found my soul mate that makes me tell myself I love him so much?

How disrespectful of what we had! How could I ever think that how we feel about each other could mean anything less than a miracle? How dare I question what those three years meant! How could it be something I convinced myself of if now when I need to, I can’t convince myself to stop?

If he’s not my true love, then what made all those memories so intense? The one’s that prove how madly in love we were. If he’s not the love of my life, then why do I miss him in all the big life moments as well as the moments where we would share a joke?

I guess as time passes, as we have our stolen moments, a part of me gets the closure I need to move on. But no matter how much time passes, I also know that there’s a part of me that will always be waiting for him.

A part of me will always be waiting for him to fulfil whatever ambitions he thought he couldn’t fulfil with us together. A part of me will always be waiting for him to go through a bunch of girls and realise that he won’t ever get another US. A part of me will always be waiting for him to become ready to accept that our kind of love doesn’t come around often; and it never truly goes away. A part of me will always be waiting for us to end up together…

And although I may be prepared to wait forever and still love him the same because I know in my heart that we’re supposed to end up together, I’m scared to death that by the time he realises it’s okay, I might have let the doubt take me over; even if just to survive. I am so scared.

And this new fear that no matter how long I’m willing to wait, he might still make it too late. It scares the hell out of me.

It’s so easy with you. It’s difficult to be with you and then come back to reality and have to hold back because life has its own complications.

But I’m definitely going to kiss you. Is that a bad thing?


Because life is too long to live without having us, and it’s too short to live without us.