I do not now — nor have I ever, even before my marriage and subsequent divorce — believe in soulmates.

I believe feelings are legitimate, though from where they come, I have no idea.

But I also believe feelings are fleeting, and though you may have incredible passion towards another person for months or even years, the guarantee of a pre-destined, life-long love that “soulmates” implies is a fantasy.

I have found people who I click with on a deeper level, one that is impossible to define even as I wrack my brain and heart for hours, attempting to pinpoint it. I have felt a connection, as if I have known someone for years even as we conclude our second conversation; a connection that neither of us can deny, as if there were another life where we went through all the romance and pain of a relationship.

But, like soulmates, previous lives are a man-made concoction thought up to force meaning onto something that just cannot be explained.

It would be easier to believe in soulmates. It would explain so many things: Why other relationships failed, why I’m currently alone, why unrequited love exists.

And yet not believing in soulmates gives me hope. I haven’t missed my chance. Love is a choice, and I can choose to build a life with anyone who chooses to build a life with me, and there are likely many people out there who I could be happy with— not just one.