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Being A Hopeless Romantic

Becoming the hopeful romantic

By Raven Williams Published 4 years ago 2 min read
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Being A Hopeless Romantic
Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

I have been in love with love I believe since I was in the womb. A natural born hopeless romantic if you will. I didn’t ask to be this way, but obviously the love Gods didn’t care how much I felt like I could’ve been better off, without that character flaw. Yes I said character flaw. Now I’m nowhere near being the “I don’t want to love anymore” type, but I won’t lie that feeling washes over me just about everyday. I grew up being a dreamy child, who believed love was candy, flowers, and poetry. And I believe it still is… my favorite romantic film is Loves Jones for God sakes. I became an overcompensator when it came to love, completely genuine, but it didn’t matter. That’s how I knew not everyone deserves what I give and what I see.

The problem was that I latched on to having this idea of love that was airy, unproblematic, and gentle all the time. I didn’t have examples of this kind of love, but I knew it existed. I just didn’t know how it existed. So, I didn’t make myself an entity of love I just assumed it was in other people. Ultimately, not realizing love is a feeling and not a person. Emotions alone are perfection. Anger, love, sadness, anxiousness, happiness, etc. are all perfect feelings. They allow the host to feel something, eventually depending on the situation they can even become addictions. For me, looking for that eventually became an addiction of some sort.

Not on the surface level at least. It was all in my subconscious, being a broken record of wanting someone to see me enough to love me how I dreamed to be loved. I used to say “well if I’m so amazing then why don’t people stay? They told me that they loved me.” blah blah blah, whine whine whine, and then something in my head clicked. Love is not complicated, it’s not war, it’s not suffering, it’s not hard, it’s not abandonment… not even a little bit. It’s sacred, and someone who means it doesn’t just spread it like wildfire to everyone they encounter. What’s complicated is dealing with other people’s meaning of love. So for me it could be flowers, and to others it could be you have to suffer first. And that’s ok, but my love means everything beyond that, now that my heart has been grabbed out of my chest a few times.

After seeing that my dreamy, romantic self didn’t mean I have the automatic right to someone’s heart, I understood that this love I dream of is being invested in myself, whether I acknowledged it or not . I have no choice. It took me a while, but through the midst of it all I picked myself up every time. That is love. Moving forward… is love. Never let anyone tell you that no one will love you like you want to be, because those people find comfort in settling. But not me, and certainly not you. So, get flowers delivered to you from you, make dinner for yourself, take yourself to that new restaurant, because at the end of the day you have to come home to you. Romanticize yourself so all that person has to do is add more, because if they decide to leave they can never take anything away from you, not even time.

love
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About the Creator

Raven Williams

A renaissance woman who loves every art form. Though, writing is my first love. Welcome to my journey of putting my writing to life.

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