As always seems to be the case, love has found me when I least expected. I didn’t see this.
Even though every conversation and interaction brings about my hair standing on end and electricity charging through my heart and soul, I regress.
I think of what I have experienced before. I think about the challenges of a future.
I tell myself that patience is the proper virtue for this situation. I constantly turn over the pros and cons. I remind myself that anything meant for me cannot be meant for anyone else and will make its way. Then, I apply the brakes and set up camp, erecting mobile barriers, but barriers none the less. This satisfies my girl brain anxieties, but my heart aches for the sweet after so very much sour.
While all this seems like a logical approach, it does not feel authentic to being myself. It feels like looking the gift horse in the mouth. It feels like cowardice.
How much time have I spent searching with unrequited efforts and fervent prayers for a partner, matched on some many (even seemingly impossible) levels to come forth? I already know everything needed to make this happen lies within me because day after day, a revelation slaps me in the face that life has perfectly prepared me for this very thing.
To be or not to be, I guess that really is the fucking question.