subject line: soulmates. July 22, 2015 by Hannah Brencher hartford, michigan I found my soulmate. She’s so broken, but my most poetic words aren’t enough to heal the cracks inside her. Some nights, I get crazy scared for her and me and this wild race called life that we can’t seem to figure out. What if she’s my soulmate and I’m not hers? Soulmates were never guaranteed to be perfect matches; no literature ever admitted that maybe my soulmate won’t need half of my soul to exist, but I would always need half of hers. Her soulmate is still out there, somewhere. There is no doubt about that. But - she is my person and it would be agony to face living without her. Life is full of cruel twists. She can’t stop making herself bleed. I can’t stop thinking that maybe she would get better if I was gone. I can’t seem to help her, to hold her tight enough, to wipe away her pain as it leaks out of those beautiful eyes. My heart feels so bruised and battered and too full - full of her, and the mistakes that she can’t forgive herself for, and the blood, and the midnight conversations and breathless pauses between awkward words. She asks me dozens of times each day, do you still love me? Each time I say yes, yes, yes. I cannot make her feel my love. I cannot get past my own incompetence and reach her heart and heal it. When it’s late at night and she’s fallen asleep, I lay awake and think of all the ways I wanted to help her today. It hurts to breathe, a physical ache that I never would’ve believed possible. If I could, I would take her pain away. If I could...I would do so much. Yet what is the use? I won’t let her go. She wants me to let her go, and yet it’s the very thing she is most afraid of. If I let her go, who will be there to keep her here?