I wouldn’t consider myself a hopeless romantic.
I could, considering my history. There’s a trail of women behind me, some who still care for me but know I’m not right for them, others who legitimately want me dead, some with good reason, and each in turn has taken pieces as they left, pieces I’ve struggled to either find again or re-grow.
But I do.
I pull myself together best I can, brush myself off, and move forward, to reclaim my optimism.
I have to. That’s who I am.
Like I said, not a hopeless romantic.
Rather, I’m very, very hopeful.