Only me . . .

hope·less adj.
1. Having no hope; despairing.
2. Offering no hope; bleak.
3. Incurable.
4. Having no possibility of solution; impossible.

ro·man·tic adj.
1. Of, relating to, or characteristic of romance.
2. Given to thoughts or feelings of romance.
3. Displaying, expressive of, or conducive to love: a romantic atmosphere.
4. Imaginative but impractical; visionary: romantic notions.
5. Not based on fact; imaginary or fictitious: His memoirs were criticized as a romantic view of the past.
n.

Hopeless Romantic is basically an incurable impracticality.

You search for perfection . . . You strive for something greater than yourself, although you have no earthly idea of what that can be . . . You wander through this world, blind as a newborn, and you rest on this, you rest on your blind hope that something will happen sometime that means something. You look for meaning in the smallest of things. The pace of breath, the emphasis on a syllable, the accidental touch of a shoulder, or the brush of a hair . . . But mostly you look into someone’s eyes, and hope you see a soul. You start having thoughts about what you see inside someone, and you begin to manifest reason. You create a delusion that can only possibly exist in a mind like yours. You take the attainable, and make it unattainable. You force things into a person that may or may not be there and regardless of reality, you cling to those until you are removed by force. You search for perfection and you see it across a room. You notice the way it moves. You hear the words from its mouth. You see the ease it walks with. You see the way it attaches to others and see the happiness over come them . . .You realize that it is not perfection you have discovered, but rather intrigue. You are completely enthralled by the appearance of perfection that you have forced on top or her. Perfection would almost ruin you at this point, because you are holding on to the belief that perfection is unattainable. But this . . . This is not unattainable. You see the motions, you hear her sweet slight accent, you see the smile and you can’t look away. Your heart is tearing itself into a thousand pieces and you can’t look away. Something takes over . . And you can’t look away. You are told “I believe you are smitten.” You respond “No just intrigued. There would have to be a remote chance of anything beyond the solitary existence of tonight.” Scratch that. You respond “No, just intrigued.” And it begins . . . You become a freight train. You can’t stop until you reach a conclusion. Whether it means being derailed, whether is means reaching a happy conclusion, or whether its having a sudden reason to stop, hitting the brakes, and then realizing that regardless of wishes or intentions, you can‘t stop it.