A Theory

I adore the idea of the incompleteness of love. I could just sit and think about it for a long time, perfectly content. Knowing that no one will ever be able to fill in all of my empty spaces makes me happy. I like knowing that I will remain confused and annoyed, empty and striving, even when I'm blissfully in love. Me, just hanging out with some other messed up, selfish ass is the most romantic thing I can imagine.
What calm. What freedom. What joy.
Now, I know that some of you worry that I've become a cynic. I really don't think I have. I want to find love again. I want to believe that some crazy mix up happened and I'm with the most amazing person I've ever met. I want to make lame jokes and not worry about it, to forget to shave my legs and still be thought of as sexy, and to sit and drink coffee and cry because I'm so happy. But more than that I want to exist in my skin with someone else, in his skin. I don't want to hover over someone, holding my life, hoping he can fix it and inspire it all at once. I don't want to be hovered over.
It took me a while to figure that one out. I guess in reality I still am, but at least now, I've got my theory straight - "I'm a mess, you're a mess. Everything is as it should be".
Amen