Mikaela--Two

“Find someone who makes you feel whole.” My mother used to always say
that. Every single time I saw her. She was a person that, as strange as it sounds, loved love. Loved to love, loved loving. She wanted me to love someone a way that is unthinkable, a way in which I would give up anything just to be with some man. I did not want to do that.
I never enjoyed the idea of needing someone to function,
to live, to be happy, to find yourself. I know I’m capable of doing that on my own. I wouldn’t give things up that make me happy just for “the love of my life.” The idea of a companion is nice, though if I were to somehow grow to love someone, it would not go to an extent in which I need them to breathe, nor give up my all for them. You may be bewildered, you may go, “If you are not doing these things, then this isn’t love.” We perceive love differently. Instead of completing me and making me feel like I need them, I would much rather have someone admire the fact that I am already whole. I come as I am. Holly May Gee. Whole.
I live alone in an apartment in San Francisco, moved the year my mother
passed away. My father lives in Los Angeles, doing fine with his girlfriend of 3 years. I’m doing pretty well too. I own a cafe near my apartment building, and I would say it’s doing quite good. I’ve made many friends here, a few having a romantic attraction to me. They’ve tried to claim that they were in love with me. Of course, being the person I am with “preposterous” views of love and romance, I push them away. I pushed all of them away, not expecting one to finally reach my standards; to finally find someone who views the idea of love like I do.
He made me feel weird, he made my head hurt, he made my
bones feel like they were nonexistent. We met in my cafe, and we became really great friends. Over the course of a year, we were challenged with problems consisting of time, feelings, and the future. It was rough. Yet we got through it together. We were only friends, but we spent this time like we were together. We argued like an old, married couple. We made up like a cliche, teenage couple. Somewhere in the middle of all of this nonsense, he told me that he had no intention of being my “other half.” He simply desired to be my partner in crime, to have me teach him the art of being whole. This man wanted to take our flaws and have them become something to be celebrated. We didn’t need each other. But he was the most important person in my life. Definitely genuinely special. He came as he was. Adam Jay Hunt. Whole.