Since this was brought up in a topic I thought I would share my short twin flame story.
Spirit has a strange way of putting together destined meetings.
I never expected mine would happen at a packed venue on a ordinary Tuesday night. The air seemed thick with anticipation and the crowd’s energy pulsed.
It was one of my first ever live concerts with someone I had admired for a long time (but never actually met).
He was performing—not exactly a household name, but known enough that seeing photos of him or hearing his name mentioned had become a regular occurrence in my life.
When our eyes met across that impossible distance, time seemed to fold in on itself. He stopped mid-sentence, the microphone dropping slightly from his lips, and before I could process what was happening, he was gesturing for security to bring me to the stage.
I thought he couldn’t possibly have meant me, but there I was.
What followed was the connection I’ve read about in other twin flame stories—the intense connection, the running and chasing, the overwhelming feeling of coming home when we’re together and the devastating emptiness when we’re apart.
I think I would have read these before and rolled my eyes. Now when I read someone else’s story of separation I feel for them. As I know exactly what that takes.
But our situation added layers of complexity that most twins don’t have to navigate. Every coffee shop date risked being interrupted by fans seeking autographs, every argument had the potential to become some bloggers new story.
At the time, I thought this was the problem. Now I see we just weren’t quite ready.
We are currently in our third separation. It’s easier than the first because we both understand it better and we have better communication than the first time.
To start with, I couldn’t even properly heal because his face would appear on my social media feed or I’d hear people talk about him. I used to question whether spirit was sending me signs or was I just being obsessed.
I’d be going about my normal routine, and suddenly I’ll catch a glimpse of him in a passing stranger’s features, or hear his laugh echoed in a crowd that he wasn’t really in. I’d hit shuffle on my music just to hear him play.
The syncs were relentless.
I think I understand why they call it a twin flame—because even when the fire between us isn’t actively burning, I can still feel its warmth, its potential, its promise of eventual reunion.
