I was walking aimlessly, carrying a frustrated mind, being trapped into the old victim mode, running various scenarios in my head (I call them revenge porn). I didn’t want to do anything but wanted to do anything—anything that brought me somewhere different from where I was. I was looking for a distraction, or better a salvation, to pull me out from that miserable state.

I found nothing. Yet I also knew: going somewhere lead to nowhere. I had done enough amount of distractions in my life under the name of soul-searching to know its worth (or lack thereof), so I just kept wandering.

I came underneath a bridge. There were a couple of guys, probably homeless, taking shelter from the increasing amount of raindrops. I sat down on a bench. I also wanted to give myself a break—I wanted to say thank you to myself for accompanying me through the whole drag. “You must be feeling shitty and lonely too, dude.” I said to myself.

That moment, I finally united with myself.

I felt my presence. I felt my emotion. I felt the anger, resentment, rage, not as the “justified voice” as labeled on the outside, but simply a cry—a cry for reach. It was a desperate act of calling for attention, saying only one thing all along: Please don’t leave me.

I had been running away from my internal disturbing voices, never attempting to properly interpret their meaning. I believed—or tried to believe—that I was “pushed” over to take an action, search for an answer, or go somewhere. Well, my voices were never asking me to go away. They were a gimmick for me afraid of me leaving, yet didn’t know what to do otherwise.

Yet because we had been both trapped in the same body from the day we were born, we acted like a conjoined twin trying to escape from each other. Whatever action I took to “get away” only increased the amount of frustration and desperation on each side, which further persuaded me to try harder to move out.

I realized I had been operating like that for my entire life.

All my previous mental turmoils—be them anger, loneliness, sadness, resentment—were actually my own invitations, desperate attempts to win me back. Yet being so clueless to my inner movements, I had always looked the other way to “cure” myself somewhere outside.

And it wasn’t only him who wanted to be with me. I also wanted to be with him. When I was busy searching for that one thing/person that would relieve me, I was completely oblivious to the fact that the very person was sitting next to me, all along. We were both looking for each other, yet never knew it. More likely, we did not want to acknowledge it.

I cried and laughed for myself—cried because of my lifetime amount of stupidity, and laughed for finally finding each other.

Now it seems like a miracle that we never gave up on each other (the conjoined condition helped a lot). Now I know where to go, or who to look up to, when I am about go into disarray. I am with me, all the time.