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.
