Confessions of a Romantic

Have you ever been all "love"-d out?

Tuesday was Valentines Day. Despite my relationship "issues" it was a good one. A great one, in fact. One that involved a package from Brasil a week and a half before I was expecting it. A package that included both wonderfully thoughtful gifts and ridiculously adorable gifts. Perfect.

Wednesday night, I couldn't sleep. (That's kinda becoming the norm, unfortunately.) After tossing and turning forever, I finally decided to pull out Persuasion. It had kind of become my secret weapon to fall asleep. It's always a wonder to me why everyone adores Jane Austen so much? That book was bloody boring. In 300 pages, she told a story I could have told in 30 with the same amount of important detail. I only had about 25 pages left of the book, and I finished it. And then realized why everyone loves Jane. Somehow, in those last several pages, she hooks you. You're intrigued. Which dashing gentleman is going to prove his love and worth so that our heroine protagonist can finally have that eternal bliss she has deserved for so long? And even with the lack of tangible detail, the story still made me sigh. I turned off my lamp and had to just lie there, thinking about the happy end to the story.

Thursday I took myself on a date. Ever since I saw the trailer for The Vow back in like November I have wanted to see that movie. I was very relieved when my report date wasn't until after the release of this movie (unlike The Hunger Games which I'll have to wait an extra 18 months to see). I have been kind of wanting to go to a movie by myself. It seems like a very independent and brave thing to do. So I grabbed some candy, went to the movie theater, sat on the side where they have the two seats by themselves and sprawled out, and cried. It was a good movie, but I haven't decided whether I like it or not. I say it was good because it made me cry. I think that anything--a book, a movie, etc.--that makes me cry is good because that means it built enough of an emotional attachment that would make me involved enough to cry as I watch the characters go through their painfully heartbreaking situations. But just because I deem it good in that sense doesn't mean I liked it. I didn't dislike it. I just can't decide if I liked it. In the end though it doesn't really matter...it made me cry and then I came home and just moped around all day.

That's when it kind of hit me...I was tired of love. I was tired of how it is a constant tugging at my heart. It is a constant reminder of what I want, what I have, but what I don't actually have.... Mostly love makes me long for a time machine. And I hate that I want that. The next 18 months of my life are supposed to be fantastic. Hard, but fantastic. But I won't be able to focus and let it be fantastic if I let myself be distracted by this wretched "L" word I've got going on.

You know the most exasperating thing of it all though?

As much as I might say and try to convince myself that I'm tired of love and that I don't want it running my life...I'm not fooling anyone. Least of all myself.