He Wasn't The "One"

I thought he was my soul mate.

I thought he was my person.

I thought he was my future husband.

I thought he was going to wake up next to me for the rest of my life.

I thought he was my future.

He wasn’t. 

I wanted him to be. I still agonize over it. That pain has not untangled itself from my heart just yet. I so badly wanted him to be. 

Is it  because I felt like I just needed it? 

Is it because we had so many things in common?

Is it because our worlds so effortlessly merged together?

Is it because he held my heart in his hands and whispered such beautiful things to it?

Is it because he showed in every action of his being how special he thought I was?

Is it because I looked at him and felt something I had never felt before?

He wasn’t though. 

Life just turned out to be life. Where happy endings are not a guarantee. Where shit just happens and you deal with it. Where you saw something, hoped for something, started to believe in something and it fell away through the cracks in the earth. 

It’s time to take that future and him off the pedestal. We are all just imperfect humans navigating this world together. It’s time to recognize that there was a thread that tied us together, but it was always meant to unravel in the end. The unraveling hurts; because what we had was so fucking epic. We found love in that thread. It was such beautiful love too. But that thread unraveling the way it did, god…that fucking hurt. Such immense pain in that unravel. 

He wasn’t the one. 

He was a lesson. 

Another lesson. 

I am kind of sick of the lessons over here. 

I just want peace. 

But in this partially written story of mine, I suppose I am continuing to learn who I am, what I want, what I need and what I will no longer accept. So maybe that is the happy ending that will be mine to continue to tell. There is purpose in the pain. There are things you learn about yourself: 

Finding more of who I am…really, when the rubber hits the road. 

Picking my own self up…again…knowing that I always will.

Realizing that kind of  love can exist. That I can love and fall in love like that. Recognizing it, even when it hurts in the end.

Writing it. Sharing it. Finally finding freedom to be this vulnerable and pursue a passion.

He wasn’t the one. 

I am the one. Maybe that’s the lesson.