The hopeless romantic in me

"What does it feel like when you're falling in love?"
"...Like this"


Wouldn't that be the most romantic thing? I can't believe how beautiful that would be... no- I can't imagine it. It's like when I read one of my books and I think to myself how much I want that to happen to me. And then I bring myself back around and say how it's only a book.

Only a book- if anything is a contradiction, it's that! And once again I seem to have digressed from the topic, haven't I? I shall drag myself back around, then. I believe that books have made me the romantic. It is those same books that cause a bit of despair too when I realize that nothing like what I read about may happen at all to me. To anyone else. Horrible thought, that is. The amazingly strong, beautiful, kickass heroine and the clever, thoughtful, sometimes annoyingly protective hero. Cute couplings, shocking matches, expected outcomes, secret lovers, ext. Books can pull it off, and I do so hope that life can too.

Reading can take one away- I know that this sounds overused and jaded, but it's as true as blue can be. I love my reading and my books, my writing. It's simpler, more compicated, satisfying when you're in the middle of a novel, sad when it's done and over with, that is until you find the next addicting book to devour.

I have digressed again, haven't I?