Stories of Love

The Story of A Hopeless Romantic

If somebody asked me what kind of category I fit into in the current society that we live in now, I would probably say I was that kind that sadly belong to the hopeless romantics. The melancholy one, who, as cliche as it might sound, runs a hundred miles away at the sight of love that she ironically daydream hopelessly about almost everyday of her life. Because she was too scared to face it. Too scared to acknowledge it.

So, yeah, I was a chicken.

A hopeless romantic chicken. With cats as a pathetic excuse of solace to shake off the loneliness.

Realistically, I was never one to believe of love at first sight. Because, really, let's face it now. What do you exactly know about love? Especially if you have only ever took the first glance? And especially if you're the kind like me that never actually experience one before? I mean, how would you know, exactly, how that would feel like? How do you know if it's love, or not?

If anything, I'd probably call it attraction at first sight. Or maybe adoration?

Wait, no, that word's too dedicated to be used to describe that condition.

So, I never found it in myself to believe love at first sight. I willed it to myself to not believe it, especially if it's anything targeted towards me, because, really, what good traits do I have to have people-or just a person, someone-fell in attraction with me at the first sight? If it's celebrity we're talking about, or anyone charismatic, really, I wouldn't find it hard to believe. They probably had that way too much, more than they can handle. But me? Nu-uh.

Still, that didn't stop me from hopelessly reading sappy, cheesy romance stories in my free time just to find release. That kind of release. That kind of fluttery feeling and that foreign, but familiar, tightness in your chest that you get when you're emotionally peaked. When you feel overwhelm. Happy. Mattered. Loved.

Because, well, I do want to be loved. I was just never sure of myself on how to approach it. To groom it into something more. I simply knew how to end it. Plain and simple.

Maybe that's probably why people never took any of my relationship advice too seriously, because any kind of advice I gave them was one where they either end up getting more upset towards each other, got even more unresolved problems piled up between them, or worse, breaking up. But that's just what I know how. Ending it before it even started.

At least that's what I thought was right in my head.

Especially if it's anything related to myself. Because I'm perfectly aware that everyone else would be better off without me bothering them. They'd be better with someone else, other than me.

And being the kind that read way too much romance nonsense that I am, I was sadly able to detect attraction right away. Not instantly, but I could feel and know it quick enough. Wether it be my attraction towards something-or someone-or other's attraction towards me. The latter, though, sometimes highly inaccurate.

I wasn't a confident person, but I sure as hell was way too confident of myself sometimes, and I don't know why.

Sometimes I could feel it if someone was giving me slightly too much attention, or if I am uncharacteristically giving someone ridiculous amount of attention. And with that, came my withdrawal reflex from anything remotely like that. It was almost like I didn't even realize I was doing it, most of the time. I call it flight reflex.

So, yeah, I could feel those things.

And, sometimes, you can just feel if something was bound to be something more, even before it happened. If given enough attention. Or, in this case, too much attention.