mirror, mirror, on my soul
1:34 a.m. | Dec. 22, 2008

I don't talk about you often. But when I do, I see the look of pity that crawls onto people's faces the instant before they try to hide it. I know they think I'm crazy. I know they think you're an unfeeling jerk. And the more I try to explain it to them, the more I make you sound worse and worse. I hate to make you sound that way, because you're not that way. Eventually, I always stop talking, stop trying to explain it, because nobody can understand it.

People don't realize that when you have what we have, reasons don't matter.

I'll always forgive you. How is it a weakness to see the good in a man who is only human? How is it a weakness to let myself love someone entirely even if I can never have them? How is it weakness to not care when or why or how, but to just care?

Soon, I'll stop speaking of you altogether, already, I can't bear to hear your name, even when it's not you that someone might be talking about.

I must sound pathetic. You must sound like such an asshole. And yet, I don't care what they think. I have nothing to explain to anyone. If ever they saw us together, even for one brief moment, they would understand.

We aren't just you and I, we aren't separate. We're the same person in two different bodies. You wander around out there, an extension of me, and I can feel you in the world. And just as I allow myself to make mistake after mistake after mistake... so should you. We aren't perfect. We're completely imperfect. But we're imperfect together.

Two pieces of one soul. Remember that? Soul twins. I still have the poem you wrote that you thought was silly. I have it and I read it once in a while to remind me that once upon a time we loved each other at the exact same moment. And knew, for truth, in purity, what we were.

One soul, two pieces. Nobody else in the world needs to understand that. I'll never try to explain it to anyone again. Because either they'll get it, or they won't. And that's it.