Meeting my twin soul – falling in love


During the next few days, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of the writer girl I had met at the Halloween party

I sent her one of my favorite short stories, the prisoner, and she sent me one of hers, the tale of an immortal character who wanted to be delivered from her immortality

And two weeks later we met again, for lunch under a bright November sun

And we spoke and spoke

It was mostly me asking questions and her telling me about her life, about the divorce of her parents when she was seven year old that had left her a deep wound, wiping off all her memories between seven and ten

And she told me how until a couple of years backward she had been a library rat spending all her time reading, barely socializing

And while she was speaking, I kept on asking myself who she truly was, and if she was the right person for me

After a while she abruptly decided she had to go study

But before that and to my surprise, she said that she had really enjoyed our time together and proposed to see each other at the same time the week after

For two other weeks in a row, we met, and each time I saw another facet of her personality

And I found it complicated to add up the different parts together

After the brightness of our first encounter, I had been slightly disappointed by her texts I had read, wondering if she was truly the writer she pretended to be

And yet, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking to her, and waited anxiously for our short weekly meeting

The fourth week, she told me she was too busy with her studies to meet me

But I didn’t want to wait, she was an exchange student after all and would soon enough leave

And that convinced me to propose her to go out during the weekend, when before all our planned meetings had taken place within university context

But I was too afraid of being rejected to write her a direct, straight to the point message

Instead I wrote her a short fantasy story, an idea that had stemmed to my mind one night after attending a mass, something I rarely do

And to my surprise she replied in the same way and agreed to meet on Saturday evening

And we met, and again I was disappointed by the disharmony on her face that reflected harshness and preoccupation

But as she spoke and spoke about what mattered to her heart the most, the fire of passion shone into her eyes, and emotions softened her face

And suddenly she had the most beautiful face I had ever seen on earth

It was a strong and strange moment to see her and to see her reflection in the mirror close to her

At that moment, I understood that was her true face, when she was in harmony with herself, with her dream

And her face reminded me of something old, very old

And I could see myself too in her face

She broke that moment, proposing to go out from the café where we had been sitting

And once outside she told me my intensity put her ill at ease, and that my gaze and my prolonged eye contact intimidated her

We crossed the town toward its height where she lived, where I had never been

She told me of her fascination for large empty spaces, and how it bored her boyfriend when she spoke her impressions

It reassured me in a way, telling myself that he surely wasn’t the right person for her, and yet it saddened me for her

We climbed on spaced stairs on a narrow winding path

And I noticed she climbed very slowly

And for the first time I felt real tenderness for her

I felt all her vulnerability, and for the first time in my life I had the craving to take the hand of a girl, take her hand

But I didn’t

And we continued our slow climb

She told me she was not used to hills and mountains, as her country was flat, but she loved them

And when we arrived on top of the hill, she said that I was the person that listened the best she had ever encountered

And she added that she knew she was egoistic to speak and speak and speak and never ask me to, but she said she really needed to express herself

Then, I understood she was truly sensitive in the way I had imagined, dreamed

Of course, she did mistakes, she was egoist sometimes, but she knew it in her heart and acknowledged in such an earnest way

We continued walking till the entrance of the outdoors parking lot of her building, and there she stopped and bid me goodbye, asking me to be careful on the way back

And we started leaving, each from our side

When suddenly she called me back

And I walked slowly to her

And she said, very slowly

You are only the second person I meet with whom I like to write in this way

The sentence was strong, but the way she said it was way stronger

Behind these words, I heard true love

And at that instant my heart started beating fast, very fast

And I thanked her almost silently and I walked away

Listening to the music of Einaudi, and feeling my dancing heart that sung of love

At the precise moment she had spoken the magic words

I had fallen in love for her with all my heart

And I went back home in the sweetest of moods

And wrote her several messages in the next days continuing on the storyline I had started

She never replied

I proposed to see each other again

She didn’t show any sign of life

I asked her if her stock of paper and ink had ended

To no avail

And I lived horrendous nights in which I could barely sleep

She had bewitched me

And abandoned me to the loneliness of my fate

Of this love for her that was so deep it hurt

I managed to see her another time

When instead of writing her poetic lines

I said I had brought her a novel for Christmas, the tenant of Wildfell Hall

She didn’t offer any explanation for not replying, instead reproaching me of having bought her a present which put her ill at ease

And she behaved with friendliness but way more distantly than the night I saw her true face

The meeting barely lasted ten minutes, before our ways parted for one month of vacation

A month of silence, despite having tried to write her a long mail once

A month of waiting, as I could not resolve myself on forgetting her

For the briefest instant, I had touched love, and it hurt so much to have lost it already, which I found incomprehensible and unfair

You can continue your reading with chapter 5 – writing together


“Douleur” is a drawing by Chantal Peguiron


You can also read the first and second chapters of this story if you haven’t yet


About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. May you have an inspiring visit!


  1. Pingback: Meeting my twin soul – writing together | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

  2. Pingback: Meeting my twin soul – first encounter | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

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