“Yeah, I know. I’m just a hopeless romantic.” I had fallen head over heels for a girl that i had met two weeks earlier. I invited this girl to the movies with my friends, and been subjected to the torture of watching her make out with her new boyfriend in the seat next to me. After the movie, she left with her boyfriend without saying goodnight.I felt like a jerk for wanting to dislike her boyfriend, who really is a nice guy, and like a dolt for just wishing her to be happy, no matter what the cost to my emotional health.
“No! There is always hope in romance!” Retorts my friend. Idealistic moron, I think to myself.
Later, however, I ask my self, what is romance, but hope? The stupid. improbable, idiotic hope that the person you care for sees something worthwhile in you?
This I believe. As long as I have hope in my heart, I have a shot at finding love. No matter how offbeat, how eccentric I am, as long as I hope to find love, I can.
After overcoming, an abusive upbringing and manic depression, I now face the most daunting adversary of my life. My sole weapon?
Touche, my friend.
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