What I Mean When I Say We’re Meant to Be

I believe in soulmates, I believe in true love, I believe in everything pure and magical. It’s just how I’ve always looked at the world, through the eyes of a naïve hopeless romantic.

But hear me out, this is nothing like what I’ve ever daydreamed of or written about. The love in my head, the love I’ve always known, is the mere idea of it. But this, this is love disguised as reality, not always smooth-sailing but always making it to the shore.

It’s beautiful, if you ask me.

I think it’s safe to say, him and I, we’re meant to be.

Could he be “the one”? Do I see us together for a very, very long time? Do we make it until the end? I don’t know, nor do I want to know, because my idea of “meant of be” isn’t about the distant, or even near, future.

We’re meant to be, for now. I think it when I’m in his arms, or when I’m kissing him, or lying next to him.

I’m glad he’s in my life right now and he could leave any moment, he could be gone tomorrow morning, or he could disappear completely six months later. I try not to think of him leaving, because I know I’ll break with every step he takes away from me.

We’re meant to be, right now, because he makes me feel special, and drives me crazy, and he makes me feel safe in his embrace and sad in his absence. It hasn’t been that long, but I feel like I’ve known him forever, as if we’ve never walked right past each other a million times before actually crossing paths. It’s the “where have you been all my life” kind of love.

We don’t agree on anything; our personalities lie on different ends of the spectrum. I’m too emotional while he doesn’t express himself enough. But in a strange way, it works.

We’re meant to be because we’re soulmates but only for the moment, we’re young and have a lot of living and growing left to do, together or apart. We’re meant to be because of the way it worked out, and I’m glad it did. I hope we’re meant to be for a long, long time.

We’re not a living cliché; it’s pure and magical, nonetheless.