As a child, I would dance around my room screaming the lyrics to various songs off the Aladdin soundtrack. I would spin, twirl and swirl around to "A Whole New World" and hope and pray to find a boy who's kiss would revive all the parts of myself I didn't even know yet were even deceased. You see, I was incredibly infatuated with the concept that somewhere there may be a boy who was completely made for me - someone who's lips fit perfectly in mine and who's hands seemed to draw a distinct line to ensure they wouldn't wonder below the dimples on my lower back.

I lived off this thought, I took it every day like a prescription pill, it helped me get through my day with hope that I'd have a tomorrow. Although, sometimes I felt like this pill was stuck in my throat - and when it was, it always appeared that hands were too shaky to hold a glass to choke them down. For some reason, I decided that if I never found myself drowning in absolute affection from a person, I might be losing the game of life. It seemed as though I'd throw the dice and shuffle the cards, but no matter the case, I always ended up finding myself watching someone else be the poor-winner. Don't get me wrong though, I really tried playing the games.

I boggled my mind with a boy like Scrabble, trying to figure out what he would say next. I'd say words only for him to say them better. He'd play off what I would create, only trying to prove that he was much more intelligent than I could ever be. After a couple rounds, I started bringing out the dictionary. I found that some of the words he came up with so quickly in a sticky situation weren't always true and that perhaps my idea of a fair game was much different than his.

Connect Four was beyond difficult. He had a funny way of winning; it was always making sure I'd lose. Our love was a cats game with a chuckle and a lot of pretend-to-be-joking middle fingers. Soon, I found that it's very hard to live life in a blockade - especially when you're claustrophobic. He developed a way of manipulation that kept me staring at his board with hopeful eyes and a heart that clearly developed anxious hunger - but deep inside, I know he knew he'd never feed me. I can't help but think that he was guessing my next move with a motive to only tear down what I kept trying to build.

Then, there was the asshole who always called to go first, then proceeded to place his mark right there in the middle. The one who planned his way of succeeding me before I could even mark my first "O". He'd slather the sloppily jotted chart onto my brain and scar my heart with a scoreboard that looked something like this:

Me: 0

Him: Just quit already.

Come to find out, he was just a game of Tic-Tac-Toe, but there were a lot more of his Exes than the O's I gave to him so loyally. To this day, I still find it odd he pretended to act so shocked when I discovered he'd been cheating.

Lastly, the card game that I refer to as my most recent attempt at a relationship, turned out to be nothing more than a boy scraping the bottom of a barrel that was once warm and filled entirely with possibilities, sprinkled with faith and just a pinch of too much trust. He lied about his cards and kept quite a few secrets burrowed in his lap. Apparently Go Fish can be solely about grabbing the next excuse from the deck, waiting for me to ask for the right card, then proceeding to hand it off to match my expectations. So I've become more cautious when it comes to the hands I let shuffle my emotions.

I played these games for far too long. I'd play them until my eyes were bloodshot and I discovered that I was having an allergic reaction to the dust that slowly made its way onto my winning streak.

I soon thought to myself, perhaps believing in a person being solely made for me is complete and utter rubbish.

That was until I saw a light in a room I'd purposely darkened. Come to find out, she was good at juggling a battle no one knew she had, and was even better at playing it off when she dropped a pin or two - no one could hear a sound. We created our own game and played it day after day. We didn't have rules or regulations - just each other and the world dangling from the keys that danced in my Mini Cooper's ignition.

You see, Reader, I discovered that nothing in this world is made to be easy. At times, the human population can be guilty of thinking that love is a competitive black-friday-style battle to see who can find the most entertaining parts of their lives for the lowest affordable price. In this, I have grasped the idea that, sure, the best games are free but - they sure as hell take a lot of work as well. I found my soulmate, my best friend, my, (for all you Grey's Anatomy fans), "person", in a biology class my sophomore year of high school due to nothing more than alphabetical order.

She had on a pair of dirty sneakers, mismatched socks and a smile made of nothing but metal and elastic rubber bands that I'm assuming she tried to remove discreetly before eating our cafeteria serving of cold chicken and dumplings.. (we've all been there). I wore too much eyeliner, dyed my hair black, kept a lot of secrets from my parents and the song of my year was "Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance. We were an odd little predicament that I surely never expected to work, and I'm almost positive no one else ever thought it would. I mean, look at us.

And no, I'm not in love with her, she doesn't bring me flowers and I don't buy her chocolates. I guess what I'm trying to say is that my soulmate is not exactly what I had pictured. I never thought the person who finished my sentences, held me when things got rough and brought me coffee to work because she "just knew" I didn't sleep well the night before, would be nothing more than my very own best friend.

We formulated a way of living, a way of happiness and a way of friendship, in all of its many forms. We put "Common Ground" into our GPS, mapped it out, took the long way, and yes, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman might have been stuck on repeat the whole way - but we frolicked once we got there. We acknowledged the broken pieces of each other and took steps to fix them. In a world of betrayal, high expectations and make-believe, I found something incredibly real.

In this, I'm writing to every girl and boy who feels small because they can't find their "soulmate". You might have already, you might not have, you might meet the person you feel completely comfortable with in a completely uncomfortable situation. Had it not been for my biology teacher needing to learn our names, I might not have ever spoken to Kate.

Life hands you all different types of lemons. Some are too sour, some too rotten, some too ripe, some too sweet - Some just make the most perfect damn glass of lemonade you've ever had. A glass of lemonade that a child could reasonably sell for a buck-50 in their yard on a warm Saturday afternoon. A glass that makes you feel less parched, a bit more satisfied and cools down the parts of yourself that tend to be heated up a little too easily.

By all means, I beg and plead that, you, my Reader, have begun to really see that a soulmate can be anything or anyone that brings you comfort, makes you better yourself and carefully plants a patch of your favorite flowers on the parts of your heart you find ugly.

Believe it or not...there is a way to avoid games that you can't win, you simply just don't play them.

Kate, when you read this, if you read this, (I know you'll read this),

There are some things you should know.

Thank you for making sense of the parts of me I could never fully understand. Thank you for helping me complete my Jigsaw Puzzle of a heart when I couldn't find the patience. For playing Connect The Dots in order to help me find the things I'd lost and create a better self-image. For breaking through the depression I let Monopolize my world and opening up doors that I didn't even know existed. You give me a Clue about how much I might be worth to the world - and without your constant persistence, I honestly don't think I would be here today doing the things I am doing. You got yourself into a difficult game of Operation, but somehow you gracefully removed all of the toxins from my being (and yes, that includes all the eyeliner). Without you, I'm half the person I want to be.

You drive a Honda Civic instead of a magic carpet, if Robin Williams ever greeted you from a strange lamp - I can only imagine you'd wish for makeup, a dog and a lifetime supply of Panera mac n' cheese. You're not my fairytale, you're not the love of my life but you should know, my citrus-like friend, that if i could somehow, maybe someway, rewrite the dictionary - you could scavenge your fingers to the definition of soulmate, scroll a tad to the right and find your name being the only thing there - only because I know how much you appreciate simplicity. You have shown me A Whole New World - and with that to my name, I really feel like I'm winning something.

Sincerely,

I'd Pay A Buck-50 For You