The Fall of the Hopeful Romantic

About every five minutes, two tears simultaneously leak from the individual corners of my reddened eyes as I face with near certainty the likelihood that I will not find the partner of my dreams. Or rather, he will not find me. I beckon to him in the only way I know how: with a flurry of nonsensical words, and a stream of questions. Surely, I have written him a novel spelling out my love without mentioning it at all. I dance around the truth wishing that he will see me, want to know me in the way I desire to know him.

He has been in my heart and on my mind for nearly two decades. I thought the universe was aligning for us to finally be brought together despite the ocean of water, crazy thoughts, and wild emotions that lie between us. At the precipice of this awakening, I was peaceful and resolute in our eventual soul’s reunion. But as Wentworth wrote to Anne, “I am half agony, half hope.” However, hope wanes, and agony swells in this heart of mine.

I tell myself that all this negative self talk is jinxing me, swaying the universe the opposite direction that I once believed it to be going. But, maybe it never was what I had thought. Maybe it was just another illusion. A daydream. A fantasy long held to save me from my disastrous marriage.

I want the magic back. I want to feel the magnetic force drawing us together that was so strong only months ago, and I want it to be real. I need concrete evidence. The serendipity, synchronicity, and signs were not enough. All my intuition tells me my visions of happiness are true and this is forever, but is it to be trusted? I’m losing my faith.

I tell myself that it is because I’m not ready. There’s much I need by way of recovering from my last relationship before entering into another. I should push away these emotions and focus on healing, and I try. But, my twin tears are reminding me that these feelings refuse to be ignored. All I want is for my dream to come true. Is that too much to ask? I’ve waited so long.

 

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