I Feel Like I Died That Day

The tube perforated the windshield and was hanging between us.  I was incredulous.  I really thought I was going to die.  Everything happened in slow-motion, the car would have rear ended the truck, had it not been for the large tubes it was carrying in its trunk.  The road was slippery, the result of hours of rainfall and we surely could not have anticipated it happening.  To us.  Two accidents.  The first one, so trivial.  The second one, kind of scary.  I mean, falling in love, is very scary, for someone like me.

It’s weird how a simple foray into quantum hell can awaken thousands of questions.  What if, I was already dead?  And, at what point did I actually die?  I’d like to think that I died that day because something else saw the light.  Love.  I know it’s corny, I usually hate reading about people’s schmaltzy love stories, and their corollary, the inevitable break-ups but I think it’s cool when it happens to me.  To this day, my corrupt soul was toying with concepts much larger than it could entertain, and it never occurred to me that one day, I might actually say it aloud-that I love someone.

It’s beyond me, and I cannot control it.  I must be dead for this to be happening to me.  As someone who’s always seen human beings as less than worthy, I started seeing the beauty of humanity in that one person alone.  That must be, what being in love feels like right?  It’s visceral but cerebral at the same time, part of me gets turned on by his intellect, the other part by everything else.  And that scares me, mostly.  How can someone blindly trust another human being?  And yet again, I feel like I would.  I do things to him that I would not normally do to other beings.  Spice.

I’ve always been pretty stupid and impulsive and only death can explain this sudden u-turn-from me being so utterly devoid of human emotion to actually being able to feel genuine untarnished love for someone-because nothing else could have aligned my destiny so perfectly when I so unrelentingly fight against my natural instincts.  I must have died twice.  The first being the day of the accident, the second being that day when I successfully weaned off from a toxic relationship.  Both had the same intended result-they got me closer to him.

I know the concept of a soul-mate is so painstakingly wishy-washy but I’d like to believe there’s someone for everyone.  Even if, death is what it would take to bring them together.