At a certain point in one’s life, one finds that it’s time to give up on dreams and aspirations of romance and in finding that one (or anyone for that matter). Despite my young age (they always said I was precocious),
I have reached that stage.
I find myself envisioning me ten years later, still sighing at the romantic parts of a movie where the guy turns around and comes running back or stands under her window professing his love in the driving rain, knowing that those things will never happen for me.
I’m giving up on hoping that perhaps Mr. Right might still be out there if I just look for him in the right place at the right time without knowing the where’s or when’s. Giving up on the thought that love, while not as blind as we would like it to be, is still forgiving on outer beauty when inner beauty shines.
I have taken all the romance and happily ever after’s that have been spoonfed to me from birth through adolescence all the way to adulthood. They have been dropped into the dumpsters of my building, along with browning banana peels and empty containers because truth be told, the later are more representative of my life than the former.
Yet deep down, like that spot in the middle of your back, I cannot reach the final weak glimmer of hope that it could happen…maybe just once to finally rid myself of such silly, and at times hurtful, nonsense.
How many times does you have to hear the word “no” before you finally take it seriously?
Is it just me or is it possible to truly and completely give up on the search for love, cause I’m ready to throw in my towel.