But If I Did

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know either.”

We say it to each other, and mean it. This is new, for both of us.

It’s something we both do not want to end, but it has to; the miles between us demand it.

I cry to her on the phone. “Please tell me I’ll find this again. Tell me he’s nothing special, tell me someone else will treat me the way he does. Tell me there really are soulmates and mine is still out there.”

She’s my best friend. “If I could promise you that, I would.” I want her to sugarcoat it, but she won’t. She knows that I know better, that I wouldn’t believe her anyway. So she tells me the truth and I appreciate the gentle slap and sting in my chest.

Ever since I can remember learning the definition of “soulmates” I’ve never believed in them. Just *one* person out there who was created especially to compliment you and your life? Psh, please. That is utterly ridiculous! And I still don’t believe in soulmates, even as I feel about him the way I do.

He asks and insists on knowing how my day was.

“I swear I’m about lose my shit on my roommate!”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could help you. But you still didn’t answer how your day has been.”

He apologizes to me for not being perfect, as if he’s failed himself, and me, by not being so, as if I’ve ever expected perfection from anyone.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say.”

He’s so genuine and kind hearted towards me.

“I don’t want you to be sad, the thought of that hurts me and just want to make you feel better.”

It’s not just bullshit lines from him, it’s not platitudes; I know this. He is sincere and means exactly what he says.

It hurts anyway.

I hurt anyway.

“I WAS JUST HERE!!!” I’m screaming at myself in my head.

But this *is* different. This is something that stood a chance, a really good fucking chance, but not given the opportunity to play out.

I’m honestly not sure which scenario is worse. The one where I tried and it failed. Or the one I didn’t get to try and it failed.

Music is not one of the five recognized “love languages.” But it is for me. Send me a song that makes you think of me.

I don’t even tell him that. He sends me a song that makes him think of me. I can’t bring myself to listen to it, so I look up the lyrics and sob.

We are getting nowhere carrying on like this. We need a plan. So I come up with one. It’s not a good plan, by any means, but I have no idea what else to do.

“That sounds horrible, but I’ll try,” he tells me.

I could not agree more.

I think about the first time I saw him, the second time I saw him, our first night, our last night, and everything in between, and I cry myself to sleep.

I still don’t believe in soulmates. But if I did…

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