It feels almost treasonous, writing to someone who isn't here yet, while I also think of he who is. For once I'm being true to my soul though; I know I'm living a Half-Life where frustration and dissatisfaction overwhelm me. Where my days are wasted trying to find a semblance of meaning.
I'm a writer, a poet, a reader of books, a devourer of philosophy, a thinker, a questioner, a dissatisfied survivor on this planet we call home.
I'm imagining a life spent opposite someone who understands me.
My other half would not waste time dragging me to malls, but take me to libraries where we would bury ourselves in books, and read quotes by our favorite authors. We'd drink coffee and read poetry until we are parched. We would camp under the stars watching them twinkle in each other's eyes. We would live a life of words.
We would entwine our fingers over breakfast and discuss the merits of Oscar Wilde, and whether or not we like his philosophy. We would feed off of each other and watch movies that encourage thought and debate into our natures and beliefs. We would make each other better people.
I miss you before you're here, and I don't know where to find you.
You are too deep for tinder, as am I. And I somehow cant picture you wasting your time and energy on the fruitflies and moths that are drawn to you. I imagine you are looking for something deeper and can't be bothered with their frivolity.
I imagine you gaze at them in wonder, and distance, for you are the light, and can't be bothered to be swallowed by something shallower than what your soul craves. Perhaps you go to bars to hear poetry from those of us who are loosened up from our usual silence into phases of artistic reflection. We do not giggle or demand attention, we are grounded.
Maybe I'd find you in a library, or a book store, or a bar? Maybe I'd find you on a beach as you imagine the stars above us that we can't see? Maybe I'd find you in a coffee shop as you watch the people passing by the window and catch your eye? Maybe you're the man strumming a guitar and making up words to match the melancholy in your eyes?
I miss you, and the conversations we should be having.
You're one in seven billion and I don't know where to find you, but there's an urgent fire in my soul telling me that it's time, and you're close.
You're as clear to me as my reflection, and already as dear to me as my soul.
I can see you in my mind's eye as a vision, perhaps your eyes are clear blue, or maybe they are as dark as mine.
I don't know where to find you. I don't know how to find you.
You are, as I am: unique. We are more than what meets the surface. We are gentle and yet fierce, soft and yet resilient, quick to smile or laugh, but easily moved to silence and speculation.
All I know is that you are not here yet, and I should start looking for you, or at least going to places where you might be.
I will find you. You will find me. We will find each other eventually. Because this life is unbearable without each other.
You're the other half of my soul that split from mine when we were created. That's what I'm looking for, and I can't wait to find you.
I've known you exist for ages, and I got distracted by my happiness at finding someone to share my time with, but now I'm aware that he isn't you, and once again I'm on the hunt for something deeper, more meaningful, and truly intimate as only we can be.
I'm looking to expand and grow instead of shrinking and contracting to fit a predetermined space. I've grown narrow and dull, boring and muted. I miss being vibrant and pulsing with life. I miss the wild shine in my eyes and truly feeling connected in a moment. I need to share that, to give it and receive it back. I need life. I need passion. I need connection. I need someone who doesn't try to crush the life out of me. Someone who encourages me to be the best version of myself.
I need more. I need someone who will seek out gardens and beaches and deserts. Someone who can build a fire and want to simply sit next to it, gaze into it's depths and tell me what they see, just for a laugh, or maybe not. Someone who is also a creative force, who is able to be what I need.
I'm looking for a writer, a reader, a thinker and a gentle soul. I'm looking for someone who is open to the world around us in all its forms, who delights in touch, and taste, and discovery.
Who counts moments shared as treasure neither of us can place a value upon. Who sees everything as an experience to be noted.
All I hope is that I recognise you when I see you. And that you'll see me in the corner of a crowded room and come to me, for I know I'd be too shy to come to you.
(Written in Toronto June 2019)
