I searched for the definition on the net, and it says:
“A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.”
The concept of soulmates always fascinates me, but it does so in a way that I can’t understand. In a way that it does not make sense. No matter how much I think about it.
Ideally suited. That doesn’t sound as special to me, anyone could be stated as being ideally suited, perhaps my coworker who does a fantastic job whenever we are paired together, maybe it’s a lover, who knew exactly which brand of tea I like, who knows what my favorite movies are, my preferred genre of songs, my —
But you see, all of these? It can be done by someone else. My parents could know all the quirks that my lover knows, my best-friend could memorize how I like my coffee. So, what discerns an ‘ideally suited’ person from someone who is simply ‘close enough’ to someone else?
Besides, where does the ‘soul’ fit in into this narrative.
That’s what’s important, isn’t it? The soul part, two souls combined together.
Is it two souls?
+
One soul.
I think it’s only one, actually.
One soul separated since their creation, yes, one soul is the only explanation of a soulmate.
One soul, ripped apart at the seam;
like torn skin, it would frantically try to heal its wound. But what can the now two separate beings do to be able to crawl into one another again? To be whole again? Was it the pain? The desperation?
Is that why?
Is that why when two certain people meet, their bond grew and grew like a skin weaving its nerves and tissues together, a healing pain; agonizing, but needed. A willing process the both of them try to do, and fight to keep doing in the future
You can see it can you? The way they smile to each other, the way they laugh and simply look at each other. You could never have that, can you? Should you be jealous?
No.
Because you’re NOT the anomaly. They are.
Those soulmates are the anomaly.
While you, your soul is whole.
No mutilated parts jutting out in sharp edges from being broken so forcefully. Your soul is yours and yours only to keep.
Those two… well.
Born from one soul they were, again, ripped apart by the seam.
It makes sense now, doesn’t it?
Why they’re so rare.
Why these soulmates are rarely ever seen, ever believed to be true.
Because they’re the anomaly, they’re the tragedy romanticized.
One soul ripped apart, desperately trying to became whole again, being as close as possible, maybe in the mind or in the body.
But they could never really be one anymore, can they?
Of course not, they have their own forms now, veins and blood wrapped neatly under a blanket of skin. And no matter what they do, they can’t really feel like one soul anymore, them already ripped into two before being birthed, before being realized into the world.
And so they try, and try, and try. Maybe from interlaced finger, maybe from yells through the phone, maybe from a kiss, maybe from sex, maybe just from being there to listen, sharing pain if one of them struggles, sharing happiness at the other’s joy even when they’re seas apart, maybe sharing smiles when the other finds their loved ones. It doesn’t matter what form, it doesn’t matter in what way — or what others label them to be.
All they know is how to try to be one even when they’re apart.
All they know is to make sure the other never felt that pain again, that pain of being ripped apart at the seam.
