A Hopeless Romantic

[Sofie Kajouke]

I doodle hearts in the margins of my paper. I only watch chick flicks, then cry at their happy endings. I admire roses and chocolate and love notes. I fall in love with the fictional characters in my favorite stories. I stare at elderly couples who still hold hands because they have not lost their passion. I smile at the sight of a tender gaze locking the eyes of another. I am in love with love.I am pretty certain that my fascination with this poignant emotion began when I was certain that I was doomed to an elderly life with my fifty cats. No middle school boys were ever interested in me…the two that were hardly counted in my opinion. I therefore became enthralled in every romantic comedy I could get my hands on and engrossed myself in the love lives of my best friends. I found the beauty in the tender devotion of two lovers, and realized, as the years went by, that it was only a matter of time before I felt what I so dearly desired.True love is not something I expect will happen to me. It’s only something I hope for. If it does happen, well then I can accept the warm surprise with a happy and welcoming heart. If it doesn’t, I know that I have been able to share a little bit of the joy with others.Maybe admiring other peoples love will make me jealous - I have felt the resentment. Maybe actually falling for someone will leave me heartbroken - I have felt the pain. But I have also seen those lonely people who block out anything more than a superficial relationship. Though they deny it, I know that their pain is profound, and that their hurt is more deeply engraved on their hearts then those who have loved and lost. I will risk jealousy and heartache if it keeps me from the cold bitterness of a glum, solitary life.And so, I live as a hopeless romantic. I love, in the hope that someone will love me.