you figured love was an invention of the movies and the poets and the romantics. in some ways you are a romantic, and certainly you loved your friends and music and the sunrise. but a love like that - the icon - it is as real as a unicorn or a mermaid. sure, maybe in the history of humankind there has been something similar, the way a unicorn was maybe a rhino, or a mermaid was a manatee. over the hands of a real story, the magic had been added in; a fiction. sometimes people seemed very happy, this was an observable fact. but you thought that the statistical likelihood that you could experience such a thing was just not very likely.
sometimes you wondered if you even could. your first "boyfriend" was a spring of a thing. sometimes at night you'd think he's very nice. i should feel more for him. so maybe love was like a birthday: despite all the marketing, it just was never going to be very exciting. you tried love again, of course, you're an optimist and this is what society has told you is best. it all felt sort of fragile and lonely. you loved people because you do love people; you find it easy to do so. you love them like coffee or your cat's soft fur. but when men walked through your life: you never felt that magic. never felt that thing that is the cursed princess's cure. moonstruck. while you do admittedly sometimes want a family - you never found yourself picturing a husband, couldn't understand the allure.
and then the moon split a star into a person. and you finally met her.
vaporwave
2087
theartofmadeline
