Kindred

There's something about the mystery of meeting someone new.
The unfamiliar, the new, new, new feelings, yet the feelings are old.
You've felt them, the palpitation. The flush. The yearn.
What if you've met them once. You hold back the assumption that this time, will mean anything.
Hope, sprouts like a bud, only to wither as your logical mind creeps in.
I want so bad to have what everyone else does.
To feel that spark of the unknown. The deep, dark waters of mystery.
Mystery. The need to solve, to know, to understand.
Understand why we go last.
Not just last.
The last.
And yet....
Does it mean that we'll appreciate the mystery more?
Or will we just want to throw it away since we now have what we've craved for so long?
And maybe that is the mystery itself.
That we don't know.
Know when, or who, or how.
But we'll feel Kindred. We'll feel again.
It will be unlike anything we've thought about feelings, or yearnings, or mystery.
I promise.