I met my “twin flame” ages ago. Har har. Actually, I remember a snippet of a past life we had together. He was in serious trouble and I managed to get him out of it, because that’s what you do when you love someone. Bleh.
In this incarnation, we’ve succeeded in making each other uncomfortable, in screwing each other over and one of us (guess who) forcing communication that the other wasn’t up for or expecting. There’s many things about him that I loathe. Many aspects of himself that I am opposed to. His behaviours and the way he can comport himself often disgust me. I don’t like him very much but I still love the dude. I see right through him. When other people don’t see what I see I am always shocked.
Our connection is…not something I even know how to put into words. In those moments when we allow ourselves to feel it, I adore him. Even his faults. All of it. Pure acceptance. He does the same for me. The small smile he has when he watches me stand up for myself, as if to say ‘you’ll never change will you? Good’. The roll of my eyes when he tries to take control of his friends because it’s so typical. It was typical when we first met. The laughter we share when we rhapsodise ourselves, because we see through it. We see the vulnerability in each other. The tiniest of insecurities. And we respect the strength it takes to smooth over the rough edges of doubt. It’s all so obvious. I delighted in it as did he.
The connection is so strong that we didn’t need to be looking at each other for it to be apparent. Standing at opposite ends of a room, doing things unrelated to each other and a friend grousing ‘you guys are so annoying’. Another friend being freaked out at our sleeping frames, identical in rest. Harmonious.
Him being in contact of my anger and being able to handle it perfectly. Giving me space to shout and then holding me still so my energy doesn’t fry me alive and burn me to death. Me in contact with his workaholic nature and knowing how to handle it perfectly. Giving him peace in my arms. Thrilling. Glorious.
Then came the separation. I kissed him and knew in my heart that it was time to say goodbye. It was the same voice that told me my grandmother was leaving and then thirty minutes later she passed away on a hospitable bed. The voice of truth. I knew it and I think he knew it too. Nothing needed to be said, again it was obvious. The look of confusion and pain in his eyes. He knows me too well to think nothing of it. So I leave and don’t initiate contact. There’s no point. The time wasn’t then and it isn’t now. There was no big fight. I know the day of reconciliation is coming but it is not now. I asked him to be close sooner than he was supposed to. I begged for him to heal me because I was traumatized. I needed him and he came. But now isn’t the time. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force anything.
I tried to talk with him months ago but he wasn’t able. He is with someone new, someone good for him. He wasn’t cruel, he just wasn’t present. I saw him in the flesh, he looks happy. In the truest of ways I am happy for him.
But I am hateful for myself. Angry that he gave me a piece of heaven and it got taken away. The childish part of me wants to grab it back, the woman in me wants the satisfaction of winning and the wise lady in me smiles at the other two and shakes her head. Be patient. But it hurts, I don’t cry, but it hurts. When I saw him, I saw the guilt in his eyes. The sorry that he couldn’t say because it wouldn’t make sense. Poking me with a finger to my stomach because he can’t hold me anymore. He loves his new girlfriend and he is loyal to her but he’s sorry, poke. Standing up because the only available seat is next to me, and he just can’t. The shared look we had when Dan Brown was brought up, because two years prior we had been in his room, he got out of the shower so naked and exposed and I pretended to look very interested in the Da Vinci Code. That sad look that passed between us tinted with humour. I saw it, he doesn’t know that, but I saw it.
And we both hate it, but we see each other. Twin Flames suck.
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