The Final Thread

I met her in that place. The place we had met so often, a product of the edges we knew not yet how to sand, a place where every word seemed to remain a command, regardless of intention, and every suggestion carried with it the weight of reality. We had each taken strides to avoid such influences on each other, politely saying nothing upon arrival. At some point it seemed another had realized this and had somehow slipped their own will into our private conversations. What were once pleasant, albeit measured, conversations were now a rush to speak first if of one's own accord, or to delay speaking as long as possible if controlled by another.  Countless rounds of this transpired as outside influences tried their hardest to control the interaction entirely, not realizing the perspective of each participant. It seemed that we each wanted this place to be no more a part of reality, to be relegated to "less real" than the realm of reality- this place where words were things as real as either of us. Doubts filled my mind that her choices had ever been her own, but instead may have always been reflections of my will from encounters in this place now forgotten. In time, between someone else controlling her words and me realizing the weight of my own, I got the impression that she felt compelled to return to this place after a time, a curse in place from the beginning.  Oh to be rid of this curse! Oh to be certain of love, once and for all!

Instead I fought each time to wrestle control from those behind the scenes, and return it to her before making a quick exit. Each time I chose the path that seemed most kind; granting freedom and the ability to retain it as best as possible. Variations occurred of course; at times I felt compelled to remain with her a while, those were nice, but the compulsion always faded for me, replaced by a deep longing. I often wondered if she felt this way as well, perhaps we had been overthinking something intrinsically simple, that we each acted as if compelled because the request to remain with each other was the best possible thing we could imagine. But this would necessarily remain speculation it seemed, what of certainty? 

And so we fought in this way, until after a while we each copied each other, not realizing the unexplored mountains and perils this would uncover. Finally, it seemed, she had taken the initiative and planted this suggestion: "This will be our last kiss." I could see the sadness in her eyes, suddenly sharpening mine from the half sleeping state I had walked in with, feeling I could not truly rest without her, but unwilling to leave or feel like I had forced her to stay until this task had been completed. I had not expected this, in a single phrase she seemed to have thrown the game, a game that had become more important to me than anything else. If I left that room, I felt I would never see her again, a thought that I could see myself mulling over inside my own mind like blueprints that were utterly incomprehensible. Time crawled, and my mind went blank. I could not leave, she would not stay, but I was already compulsively leaning in for the kiss. It seemed an annihilating paradox. I responded the only way I felt I could. "Be prepared then, it will be a very very very long kiss."

Her eyes went wide as our lips pressed together. I could see her run through my mind with me, as I had already prepared to be there forever, locked in that moment. I saw myself walking her through the blueprints, how no other option made any sense from my side, and how compulsion was no longer direct control, but now simply a foundational imperative enforced from all sides. By setting my own timeframe I had locked us in this moment, I could not picture us separating, and so this kiss would persist forever, assuming both compulsions remained true. As soon as I saw her realize this she closed her eyes, and I could feel her echo my sentiment just like she always had. This time though it did not sound like she was repeating what I felt, a solipsistic concern I had held on to for so long, she was instead harmonizing my emotion with her own. I could tell this had been a concern of hers as well, but from a different angle in time. She had never planned on walking out that door, but she had come to the point where she could not honestly plan anything anymore and so instead simply gave in, truly handing initiative to me, unsure of where that might lead, but unsure how to proceed any other way. It led me to stay, and continue staying, until we could resolve the lingering matter of who had control over whom. It turned out we both had control over each other, but not causally, it had always been independently granted. 

The kiss lingered past its time and became an obligatory lip press as the entirety of the compulsion of it seemed to fade on both sides. Neither one of us were willing to release until we were certain of what we had each seen of each other's intentions though. I spoke out of the side of my mouth "soooo... There are many definitions to 'last kiss' am I right?"

"Yeah, like our previous one was our last, in a sense, before this one."

I separated abruptly and said "That was exactly what I was going to say. Do you think it's possible to mistake knowing someone so well that you can predict their movement with thinking that you are more responsible for their actions than you truly are?"

"I think love has had lesser definitions, and yes, definitely."

I kissed her again. "There, now that kiss you referenced is, in fact, our 'last kiss'."

She looked surprised and then coy, before kissing me back. "And now the period of time I referenced for it being our 'last kiss' has ended. It was a true statement, for a time, which means it was and is true, in a sense."

"I feel like we are a pair of fools, but somehow I also feel that by overthinking something so simple for so long we will never need to second guess it again."

"Agreed."

I cup her hand in mine. I feel no compulsion to stay or go, and I can tell she does not either. I still feel like I would do anything she asks of me, but only because I would want to, and because she knows me so well that she would likely not ask me to do something I would feel compelled to refuse. If we dance that line of decision though, I would feel no pressure to make the wrong one, and most likely we would just agree upon something together. For the first time I feel this feeling is mutual, and where once I had been alone with a dazzlingly beautiful stranger in this unfamiliar and particularly dangerous realm, I finally feel like I am right at home with my perfect partner.