They say people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
We never know at the start which it will be, but we can trust that we will always get what we need, even if it’s not what we want. The universe knows better. This time, it sent me a boy with green eyes.
You flew in and out my life without so much as a warning, a 10 billion watt lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. A flash of your mystical green eyes. And then, you were gone.
Thunder echoed for miles.
A curious chance encounter; one of life’s mystical coincidences. I looked up through the crowd and your eyes locked onto mine. A beautiful smile swept your tanned, chiselled face. The intensity of the moment struck me. You followed me down the stairs. A short while later, we were talking.
I knew I wasn’t ready and I wasn’t searching. I knew I needed time on my own. I was still healing. I tried to avoid it, but looking deep into those mysterious eyes I couldn’t figure out what force drew me in. Yet, I lost the power to look away.
Curiosity defies the force of gravity.
Twenty four hours later, we met again, and the same energy reverberated. It had been years since I felt anything similar. Sitting across from each other, I felt the electricity pulsating through my body. I felt alive in your presence, it pulled me in.
Our souls spoke a language only they knew. Words were unnecessary for this grand reunion. It was comforting, it was easy, it felt familiar. Each hug fit like a lock and key. Naturally, I wanted to stay by your side, to drink from this fountain of aliveness, to continue waking my soul from a prolonged and heavy slumber.
But life had other plans.
You were dedicated to your life’s work, and me to my journey. You said, it’s not like you, you’d never felt this way, you’re afraid. I know you’re practical, infinitely strong, quietly confident. A man of few words, but of unmistakable presence. I’m on a mission, I’m seeking the truth, the Divine. I’m not afraid of love. But, I need to find something important to me on this journey.
We live in separate worlds, revolving around two distant stars, at opposite ends of the galaxy.
A final embrace, the last flash of those deeply piercing green eyes, and you disappeared for good.
You left flurried up frustration and washed away the comfort that had been. Why had life thrown this in the mix now? I was just gathering my wits, finding my feet, pulling myself together, piece by piece, after a tumultuous end to something that had cost me dearly.
I didn’t need to be reminded of the sting of goodbyes. I didn’t need to be reminded of crushed hopes, of unfulfilled dreams.
For weeks following, frustration, and sadness washed over me in waves. I was locked in a battle with my mind, wanting freedom, yet finding no peace.
And then came the day I decided to sit in the surf and feel the motion of the ocean. That was the day I decided to stop trying to shift the frustration, and finally allowed it to be.
I sat with my frustration and accepted it. In that giving space, it spoke to me.
It told me of all my deep-seated frustrations, everything that had become lodged deep in the darkness. It spoke to me of unfulfilled promises, of injustice, of missed potential, of what could have been…but never was.
Here’s the thing: it was exactly what I needed.
I needed to open Pandora’s box to all the things I had shoved under there for another time. By bringing those burdens into the light of day, I freed myself from their heaviness. By letting them out, they have been released forever. Sitting here today, I feel none of the frustration of the previous weeks. Zero.
In the end, it wasn’t even about you.
It’s true that we meet people for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. And sometimes it has to be powerful enough to pull us in, to grab our attention. I now understand why we met. You were simply a reminder, a trigger. A big, bold, neon signpost on this journey of mine, pointing me in the right direction.
You illuminated the darkness, but I was the one who had to open my eyes and see.
This has given me so much strength—right when I needed it.
Author: Kristina Kardum
Image: Agnes Cecile
Editor: Lieselle Davidson
Copy Editor: Sara Kärpänen