on lovers...

For the longest time, I believed you were my other half - the one for me. I grieved and wept for months on end believing I lost the one who completed me. Truth is: you never completed me… And you were never supposed to. I have always and will always be complete. I need not a soul to view me as ‘broken’ because my heart still beats. The blood still flows in my veins, my lungs still expand and fill with air. I am complete.

My heart still beats without the pieces you took with you. I am whole. There is no such thing as another half because that implies that I alone am incomplete - which is simply not true. I came into this world whole. And that is how I shall leave. So why convince me that my purpose is to find someone who ‘completes’ me?

I always thought that that was what love was. Completing each other. But as the days go by and the white hairs find their way to my scalp, I have come to learn that love is not about completing each other. You alone are whole, and I alone am whole. Together, we are two whole beings.

Lovers don’t complete each other, they complement each other.

I loved you because you viewed me in a way I never knew how to view myself. As a whole being. But now I see that I am a complete being, in and of myself, and I do not need companionship to make me feel whole. So even when the last person leaves with the last piece of my heart, for as long as it still beats, I am whole. I am complete.