My soul doesn’t understand that you’re gone now. She doesn’t understand reasons and life complications and distance and people saying goodbyes to each other. She doesn’t understand that you’re not mine and will never be mine and there’s an expiry date to the existence of our starry-eyed, little universe. She doesn’t understand that we in fact have responsibilities and ties and stones weighing down our chests. She doesn’t understand that you have work to do, family to feed, promises to keep, and you aren’t always the kid she knows. And we aren’t always the children we let out to play with each other. We aren’t always free to do what our hearts desire.

My soul is bright like the July stars but sometimes she’s so frustratingly stupid. She’s still moping around looking for you, asking for you, wishing she could meet the one in you again. She doesn’t understand that he’s been locked away in your castle of rational thoughts and deep fear of disruptions. She doesn’t understand that their business is not the same as our business. They might have found the sky and moon in each other but we have a reality to deal with. You have a reality to deal with. You carry the world on your shoulder, which makes me so proud of you, but that doesn’t always permit wild dreams and spontaneous adventures. That doesn’t always allow for moments of vulnerability and naked truth and being a little kid again, or sometimes even finding ourselves again.

My soul doesn’t understand your silence. My soul questions me every night where her friend is; why he isn’t here sharing with her his stories, music, opinions and silly jokes; why he isn’t lying by her side wondering about rain forests and universe mysteries. Trust me, I’ve tried to explain to her. I’ve used all my power to shut her up, to reassure her that things will be alright and she will meet someone else who will love her, care for her and be there for her. She nods, and tells me, of course she knows, but that doesn’t change anything right now. That doesn’t make the hurricane in her any lessened. Because she isn’t looking for just a someone to care for her and be there for her.

She’s looking for you, for her special friend, for the magical escape out of the castle I usually lock her in. She remembers having her hand tight and safe in yours.

My soul doesn’t understand a lot of things, but she understands genuine connection and good energy and natural force. She understands that our souls meet for a reason and if they are meant to be, they will find a way to each other. Unlike me who can be so anxious and impatient and selfish, my soul is calm and patient and optimistic. She’s pure and kind and gentle and generous. So, I know, even though she misses you so terribly much, she wants you to be happy before all else. She wants you to shine the light she sees in you. She wants you to be a grown man and a kid, to laugh and to cry, to be true to yourself always. She wants you to find your answers in your own time and at your own speed even if those answers don’t ever involve her.

She might be sad but she’s also happy. She’s happy for having ever met you. She’s happy for having experienced the emotional volcano with you, for having escaped out of my stuffy castle just by a touch from you, and for having glowed powerfully in your presence. Sometimes she really wishes that the reality of you and me was a practical joke, that just like that morning when she woke up next to you and felt so incredibly blessed, before all the shit went down on her, she would have you in her arms again and not have to keep anyone else’s happiness in mind. I’m also pissed off because I know how wonderful our togetherness could be for both of us even facing reality and hardship and stressful jobs and crappy weather. But anyway, such is life.

My soul doesn’t understand that such is life means sometimes, extraordinary, meaningful connection isn’t enough. She certainly doesn’t like hearing this but it’s my job to protect her and keep her on the ground in these struggling moments. Actually, most of the times, she and I, we’re fine, and you know how strong I’m, I’ll be okay. It’s just that I’m scared. The moment I stop writing, we would disappear for real. Even our souls would eventually forget about each other. It disturbs me that I could just switch off the memories and cruise through life like nothing happened, and our lives would really be normal again. No trace. Nothing. Something once so significant could just vanish into thin air, then we live on, wondering if we’re ever missing anything.

My soul will never understand a lot of things. But she knows, I know, we better be positive and trust that one day everything will make sense. One day, something so extraordinary, so meaningful, so significant will come again and there’s no reason to be scared. After all, we met because the stars were once aligned, and we bent time and space to make it happen again. So, naturally, it comes a point where we have to put the universe back on its expected course and deal with the renewed reality before we could move our lives forward, regardless of the outcome.