At the unassuming age of thirty-three, when most people already give up on the idea of meeting their soulmates, it happened to me. The destined love kinda, best friend kinda, soulmate kinda love story. And of course I knew, consuming hundreds of romance stories through the years, that there are only two types of ending for the heroes: happily ever after, or not.
I'm always writing stories in my head. That must be a writer's curse, but I can't help it. I see something, hear something, one moment on the street, one line of a song, I'm writing the story around it. What led to this moment, what happened, how do they feel, and what now? Most often the story writes itself, I'm just witnessing it, I'm just letting it unfold. And as a writer, I'm always thinking about the resolutions. The endings.
People live and experience countless stories throughout their lives... and maybe it's an eyeroll-inducing realisation to someone, but to me, it wasn't. I was too focused on surviving, on working, on whatever was happening that I never stopped and thought, this part of my life could end, and something completely new can begin. Until it happened. The hero's journey... but I never thought of myself as the heroine until it became glaringly obvious, that I am indeed the main character of my own life. And the plot, and the journey can turn crazy very quickly.
So we cycle through countless little stories, months and years turn into little novels, and we think we are writing the plot, but I don't think that's the case. Not anymore and my life is the proof. And this story, that I have been living for four years now, doesn't seem much but the plot was worth a whole saga. Now, I think we have reached our resolution, somehow, some way, very quietly, very suddenly. And now I'm sitting in this stillness of "This is it?" It feels like an incredibly unfulfilling ending. Maybe because I grew up watching and reading soulmate stories, and sure, most often they have their hardships, but the main characters always get their happy endings. I might just be this critical because when our story began back then, I was already writing the ending. And although I had to rewrite it in my head, a million times, I always saw us "running off to the sunset together." That scene, literally, sappy or not.
But I don't think I can rewrite the ending now, not anymore. It's not a fiction at this point. You asked me a year ago, when I first told you I wanted to write, "do you know how to build a story?" because that's your idea of flirting, but also asked me "so you're writing romance, as in, a nonfiction?" and I knew you meant our story. You thought I was writing us down, and in a way, I was. Somehow, I started doing just that, writing a cute happy ending for us, but... But. The heroine and her love interest. Accidental meeting, then everything changes… I never dared to hope this could ever happen to me. Although deep down I wanted nothing else.
And of course, most fated "love of my life" kinda stories never have an easy meet-cute plot, they always have to go through years of hardships: conflicts, battles against, and for each other, character development, self-discovery, just overall drama. And the drama was always my favourite part, seeing two people work for what they want, the yearning, the "not-giving-up," fighting for true love... it's unmatched. But then it happened to me, and I can't even begin to describe how horrible it was. Having to go through my own character development and self-discovery, the pain of it, the grief of it, was not something I could have ever prepared myself for. Mostly because I thought all that pain leads up to something, and at the end all that suffering will be worth it. All that hardship for the love of your life must be worth the fight... and so I wanted that. But somehow, my story, our story, didn't get that happy ending. We didn't get our happily ever after, not together at least.
This is the resolution, seems like. And now my mouth twists because this is not the ending I wrote back then. I searched up the definition of resolution: “The final outcome. Loose ends are tied up, the main conflict is solved, and a new normal life is established for the characters.”
I stopped, took a big, long 'lookaround' in my life, and this is exactly what is happening. A new normal life is established, that's where I'm writing from, that's where I can see that you're not here. So I'm guessing the heroine's journey was not about finding the love of her life, but to awaken and find her true self. It feels unsatisfactory because it is, for quite a few reasons. And the tension of unfinished business hangs in the air, and loose ends are not tied up yet, but it still feels like the end. Broken words from your traitor mouth. I have to continue to live my life with the betrayal, I have to move on in forgiveness, and I have to be the one to write a new ending. And that new ending cannot have you in it, because you don't deserve to be there anymore. We could have been the happily ever after couple, but I guess tragedy has a deeper impact in general.
Till death do us part, I used to picture. Or we could have just parted in mutual agreement, still sad but at least clear cut. Yet you broke your promise and I'm starting to think it's because you don't like the ending we are heading to. I don't like it either, but I gave it my all. Too many plot twists along the way. Fear won, on your side, not love.
And god knows after all this, I still can't help but love love stories, and love itself. But I had to learn to romanticise myself, not someone else, and that was a very hard lesson to learn.
And god knows I wish I didn't write to you, anymore, yet here I am. I lay bare and I can't help but do it, because what if you find it one day? You won't have to wonder how it felt to me, and your guess was right; I did write us down. If one day you find me, or come back, it will be all here for you to understand. Unveiled, exposed, all yours. And I'm glad I did, six journals full by now, countless Word documents on my computer, but it was worth it. Our story will continue to live on, even if we didn't get our happy ending. It's not tragic, I'm just being dramatic, but it's definitely sad.
And one thing I learned, for sure, is that the next time someone enters my story, I won't start thinking about the ending right at the beginning. Right at the exposition. I'll let the plot unfold itself, slowly, chaotically; I won't rush things, won't regret my mistakes, and won't let fear drive me and my decisions. I'll always choose love, and I learned that because of you. So here is the finale: the ending of my self-discovery, the ending of one story, but the beginning of a new one. I think I came full circle, at last. And looking around my life, right here and now, it doesn't feel unfulfilling anymore.
