Soulmates

During the brief existence of my other life, I had deemed it appropriate to give us all alter egos so that we would be prepared should the world ever cross us.

For him, it was Carlos. And Carlos was an idiot.

If someone were to ask me to describe Carlos, all I would need to do is show them myself. Dopplegangers are easy to find for appearances; just look at any set of identical twins. Dopplegangers of the soul are much more elusive. To claim such a discovery is to question the probability of fate itself. Fate, however, has had a tendency of bearing its teeth for me on more than one occasion.

Carlos was...no. He is. Carlos will always be such a weak spot in the cosmos.

~

As for her, it was Max, born of a novel that has blossomed hate from love. Not identical in Freudian makeup, but we swim like yin to yang in the perfect cycle of compliment. We have few things in common, but the most personal is our eyes.

I was born with blue eyes that have, arguably, diminished down the grayscale. Not bright, not like silver; dull, like stone. Looking back, I greatly underappreciated them.

When we grew close enough that I could look into her eyes, I found them as my own but harboring a secret. The gray churned like clouds with wisps of bright yellow for the accompanying lightning. A storm. A perfectly hidden chaos.

And upon second glance, I realized my eyes were the gray of sleet, blue with ice and dark-rimmed.

~

Soulmates are an unspoken myth, but I have always nurtured the thought. Surely there are multiple versions of one’s perfect other but so few to have the chance to come by that we only believe there to be one. I found two at once; so that must mean there is another, perhaps even more fitting, waiting. I have no idea when that meeting will be.

But I’ll continue running.

~E