There is no need to try to fill the spaces that exist within my soul.
There comes a time when we have to release everything we thought we ever were—what we thought love was supposed to be—and instead, try our own version on for size.
But when this occurs, we might not even know what that means, except that it probably tastes a lot like adventure or like the bubbles of champagne sipped at midnight when we’re on the brink of newness.
I understand now that I’ve been traveling this path for some time. Even before I was married, I was on a journey of becoming everything I could be. From the moment I tasted the air of a hazy sunrise in the final moments of dawn, I stopped being anyone else’s and became my own.
It seems that we always belong to someone. As children, we belong to our parents. Later, we’re someone’s friend, and then girlfriend, then wife…but maybe there are those of us who are not meant to belong to anyone. We’re free, with our wings hidden under the guise of adolescence. Then, as time passes, we begin to realize we don’t fit.
We may come to realize we belong to the way the moonlight grazes our bare skin on a summer’s eve, or maybe we’re made up of all the places we’ve yet to travel.
Maybe there are those of us who just don’t need to be completed.
It’s important to meet the physical, mental, and spiritual needs of those we love and share our lives with—but that doesn’t mean that I’ll ever be anyone’s “something.” Rather, I’ll be myself: a little bit crazy and an aubergine dream, someone between righteous and defeated, between everything and nothing—that will be me.
There is a fire in my belly that burns with the truth I’ve learned from a thousand lifetimes—and while I hope you might ignite these flames further, pouring kerosene on them until they inspire me to take off in a new direction, that doesn’t mean I want you to complete me. There is no need for me to forget who I am just so I might remember who you are; there is no need for me to dull myself in order for you to feel better about yourself.
There actually is no need for any of it; but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a desire, or perhaps even a hope.
The truth is I have no idea what I am doing. Seems ironic since I suppose I’m always making plans and dreaming bigger than my hands can hold—but that doesn’t mean I know where any of this will lead. I have a feeling inside my soul that I am on the right track, even if it looks nothing like I ever thought my life would be, but that intuition and being certain of what I’m doing are two separate things.
There was a time when I kidded myself with monotony and expectations; but in truth, the more I thought I knew the less I actually did. And so, this time I’m saying: I know nothing.
I do know the way the sea feels, moving against my skin within the turquoise winds, and I know the way my tears feel when I’m heartbroken versus happy, as they slide down the soft skin of my cheek. I know the way it feels to be inspired—to be in contact with God and know I’m fulfilling my purpose. I know the way your lips feel beneath my fingertips and the rhythmic thud of your heart against mine.
But anything else? I have no idea, but that doesn’t mean I’m winging it—it means I’m following my heart even if I have no idea what it’s thinking, or where it’s headed.
See, I need you; I need you to inspire me, to push me, to be a constant within a storm—the shelter that I seek and the love that holds me down—but that doesn’t mean you need to fill my empty parts or fix anything about me.
What you put in, you then get back; so whatever you see—whatever you feel—is what’s grown from the seeds you’ve planted. And whether they are blooming or just starting to push through the fertile ground in expectant buds—whether the garden is full and wild or just beginning—this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.
I am exactly how I am supposed to be.
We will change each other; if we didn’t, then that would mean we wouldn’t affect one another and inspire growth. But, that does not mean I am lacking anything. In fact, it’s only because I am so full that I have anything to give to you, or to this connection that’s blossomed.
Sometimes I forget that I am pieced together with stardust and seawater; sometimes I forget that I’ve spent my life outgrowing “normal,” and so, I never do want to try to have that with you. But, I suppose that’s the thing: whatever grows within our shadows will never be normal—whether we wake up to one another each morning, whether we make up a new paradigm of shared time and spaces each having our own home, or whether we meet more frequently in our dreams. We will never be normal simply because we never were to begin with.
So, please don’t try to complete me—just simply, love me. Because that is the only thing I will ever truly need.
Author: Kate Rose
Image: Unsplash/Cody Black
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Copy editor: Catherine Monkman