Entry 3. lowercase love

A lovely fantasy.

I don't think I've ever been in Love. I have most certainly been in love. In fact, I don’t think there's ever been a time when I could say I'm not in love. People fascinate me. I'm attracted to things that fascinate me. I love things that allure me, and people are so beautiful. Fatally, however, in my love for people, I hold them to such high standards and such perfectly crafted fantasies that they never stand a chance.

If asked, I could find and romanticise something in every single person who has ever existed.

I see my future in the faces of strangers, imagining that I hold their love and they hold mine.

You see, I think I need people to like me. More than anything. But to just be liked isn't always enough. I want to be noticed. Cared about. Favoured. Always. And Jesus Christ, if someone for an instant gives me any hint of being the future I want, then something in my soul lurches, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am in love, not Love, but love. And more than that, I yearn. I yearn with everything in me, and I would give anything if it meant that I would receive a fraction of devotion, I would give to this lovely fantasy.

But that’s all it is: a fantasy. A lovely fantasy, but a fantasy nevertheless.

That love isn’t Love.

Love is messy and hard and not perfect because people are not perfect. It's a lot harder to Love than love. But it is worth it because it is real and isn’t going to fade when the rose coloured lenses are taken off.

Yours Always,

Kirah Romero