Can't Love Be Like That?

Call me a dreamer. An idealist. A hopeless romantic. “Such a girl” He says. (“Yeah? So what!” she says). Typical ridiculous sentimental me. But it is so true. I am a hopeless dreamer and there is no cure for this insatiable madness besides a bowl of steaming popcorn and a good chickflick, though this is only a temporary high. Inevitably, all good things come to an end (or so I've heard)…and I would really be in trouble, if I actually spent all of my time lost in a world that just does not exist. There I said it. But it doesn’t mean I want to believe it. And it still does not erase the fact that I spend “most” of my time lost in this world that apparently just does not exist. But why can’t it? Why can’t love be like the movies?

You know, I have been thinking about it a lot. Real people (real, living, breathing, people) come up with these magical stories…these fabulously-moving, pull-on-your-heartstrings kind of movies, the passion… the romance…the true love, soul-mate kind of fluffy mushy girly stuff… that just gets me every, single time, no matter how many times I relive them as if they were me.

So my question is: why is this not happening in “real life”? Am I missing something here? Am I missing out? No. It’s just not possible. But here I am. And here it goes. I guess I am just going to have to live with this, for now(!) and in the meantime, eat a lot of steamin' popcorn.