Looking in the mirror, I see a good realist who dwells on the memories of being a romantic. I miss that feeling that I was holding out for someone to sweep me off my feet. Rihanna has it right wanting to feel like the "only girl in the world." Only the truth is that all it takes is for one good scar to remind you that romance isn't enough...love isn't enough. I miss thinking that I didn't have a standard; that I could follow my heart and it would be enough to fulfill my life. No longer true. I have a standard that now rejects men who I'm sure would love me to my hearts desire but that now also requires a level of determination, self-motivation, intelligence, and the adventure. I miss being a romantic. I wish warm fuzzies were enough for me to go out of my way to do anything for any kind of relationship. It's not anymore.
In the last era of my life, I was in a relationship that I knew had a great chance that it would fail miserably if it went bad....but I was willing to risk it because if it worked, it would be something great. Risks. Despite being on good terms with the person whom swept me off my feet and took me to a level of commitment thinking that I'd never been to, there's still that "pain in my shirt" as Cee Lo would say it. There's the idea that romanticism doesn't work anymore. An idea that it should be chemistry I look for in addition to the standard if I'm going to spend my precious time on someone. There's also the issue of not knowing what's normal for healing. I lost my love, my best friend, and my mission in life by losing this man. He's still my 1st and last thought of the day. Only now that I had to cut my losses and walk away, I've been able to gain a new mission in life which is to travel and at least get paid while I'm out in the world doing things on my own. It doesn't hurt as much being out here on the road alone as it did being grounded in one place feeling alone with him right next to me. Heh, the way I see it...I don't belong anywhere in particular so why not see all the options out there.
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