The Mind Of A Romantic

I'm such a hopeless, dreary romantic. That's supposed to be cute.  That's supposed to be sweet.  That's supposed to be desirable.  Problem is, I am a woman.  Of course women are romantics.  But I don't want romance to come to me; I want to bring the romance.  Problem two?  I think I'm a lesbian.  That means I want to bring the romance to a woman.  Why is that a problem?  Because women, as a general rule, want romance from a man.  Now I know that's a stereotype, but we live in a world where heterosexuality is just accepted as your default sexuality, so how am I to know otherwise?  Being a romantic, I am quiet spoken.  I want to approach, but I am afraid of rejection.
The point of all this?  I keep thinking about her.  Every time I look at her, for just a moment too long, that moment is captured in my head.  I feel my eyes go soft and a little grin spread over my face as that image hovers at the front of my mind for a second and everything else is tuned out.  Then I tune back in and reality hits; there's no chance.  All I have are captured moments.  All I have is an unreciprocated desire.  All I have is a throbbing lump of a heart.  The heart of a romantic?  The heart of a broken soul.  The dying heart of a broken girl.
fadingvioletdawn fadingvioletdawn
18-21, F
Sep 20, 2012