Twin Flames

Hello, I’m pet. Beloved has permitted me to write here and I intend to please her. Allow me to gush, please. I’ve been waiting so long, and my heart is fit to burst.

Twin flames. I’d never heard of the concept until just recently. I’d heard of soulmates, star crossed lovers, hearts and souls, but never twin flames. I could likely spend a great deal of time and effort explaining the subtle differences between these pairings. I could even go for my Tarot deck and work out a spread for each one, but this isn’t that post. So, unfortunately, if you had come looking for a resource on twin flames then I must leave you disappointed.

I’ll never forget walking Beloved down the concourse to the jetway. We were supposed to be on that flight together on our way to starting our lives, but as plans so often do–for the young and the old–things came up and we drifted apart. The why is unimportant; The where has no meaning; Even the what itself is just so much dust in the twisting maelstrom of our lives.

It simply doesn’t matter.

What does matter is how much I’ve learned and how far I’ve come in a matter of months. All the anguish, self-hatred, and rage I’ve harbored, the failed relationships, my failed marriage, the abuse and violence I’ve been through, have finally been laid down and the truth of my existence laid bare by this woman I’d tried–and failed–to forget.

How could I? We followed each other, unbeknownst to either, around the country on an astonishingly similar timeline sometimes living as little as an hour drive from one another. It was as if the universe was guiding me back to her, and her to me, as if time and experience were waiting to teach us how to truly appreciate the gifts we have for each other before reuniting us in middle age. She craves my whimsical emotion and sensitivity; I’m hungry for her determination, grit, sarcasm, implacable wit, and above all her wisdom.

From her wellspring I’ve drawn extensively. I’ve drank her in the way a weed thirsts for water and sunlight, shooting up and blooming in a matter of weeks after a winter of privation. While she has provided the fertile soil, ultimately, the growth is my own. That is the key to it all, the one lesson I’ve been waiting to learn, that I have everything I need to be happy and all that remains is for me to allow it. There is no need for me to suffer obligations that make me unhappy, be they relationships or jobs. There is no need for me to hide myself from anyone. I am submissive, and I deserve to be wanted.

I am her pet, and she is Beloved.

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