romance

I wonder why I so relentlessly question my motives that I often can't remember the original desire. And if I can remember it, it seems that I've strayed so far away from the original thought that something of the purity of true desire has been lost. It seems like the older I get, the more my mind drifts into diaphanous shades of grey. I can't remember a time before now when I would get so lost in the analyzation of something that I couldn't remember what I was analyzing.

And still there is this incessant desire for romance. But then, what is romance, really? I think my idea would differ greatly from the average person. Perhaps. But I'm not sure.

Am I the only person who craves the passion of stolen kisses and the sentiment of a surprise phone call?

I can't wrap my head around it all. Everything. The future, much less. I can't even get a firm grip on tomorrow.

But in less than 48 hours, I will be in his arms. And right at this moment, that's all the romance I need.

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