It’s been said that love and death both come unannounced, but unfortunately, only one of them is inevitable. While death is certain, love is not – and if there ever was a day that exemplified that statement, then today was it. A friend had a death in the family, while I said goodbye to yet another guy in my so-called love life. While they were both imminent, there was one clear distinction between the two losses: soul.
When someone dies, we’re taught to believe that their soul has left their body. So with the passing of a loved one, does that mean, you’ve also lost your soul mate? Soul mate. Two little words, one big concept – one that I never quite thought about. It’s hard enough finding a guy that sticks around for more than a month, let alone finding one that’s supposedly meant to last all eternity. With each relationship that ends, I become less and less of a believer of this elusive rosy theory. Believing in it means that until I find this mystery guy, out there somewhere in this big ol’ universe, I will forever remain just a lost soul. And I’m too much of an optimist to believe in such daunting things.
Things with the recent bachelor #34592 didn’t work out (yes, despite the “magical” first date as gushed about below). Cause of death: lack of spark. Shocking, I know – considering that’s been the #1 reason with most of the guys I’ve recently dated. But it made me wonder today – is it me? Is it them? Which one out of us is to be blamed for “us” not working out? I don’t know. I can just leave it at "we didn't click," or I can sit here and do a post-mortem analysis by dissecting each spoken word, and replaying each date under a microscope – but why bother? Everyone wishes for a quick easy death – and it was just that.
We’re all destined to die some day, but not all of us are meant to fall in love. Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. And if I keep that flicker of hope inside of me alive, then I’m certain that I’ll find that someone out there who may not be my soul mate – but he can be my permanent roommate – that someone I share my bed, my secrets, my dreams, and my life with…
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. At your local library they have these arranged in ways that can make you cry, giggle, love, hate, wonder, ponder, and understand. It's astonishing to see what these twenty-six little marks can do. In Shakespeare's hands they became Hamlet. Mark Twain wound them into Huckleberry Finn. James Joyce twisted them into Ulysses. Gibbon pounded them into The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. John Milton shaped them into Paradise Lost.
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