Curses of Being a Romantic

Being a romantic is the best and worst part about myself. It has driven me to Art, Literature, Music, everything that is beautiful in our world. It has made me witness and appreciate the smallest things in people around me and made me trust my deepest emotions when all that surrounds me seems to point to the other direction. But it has also rendered me to a point of vulnerability that I am not sure I’m able to handle. It has exposed me to a waterfall of tears and a pain that I have never felt due to physical blows.
I will attempt to define what being a romantic is for me. Of course it includes believing in love, but not just love for another person, love for nature, for beauty, for connections. That isn’t the only way to define a romantic. Romanticizing means believing things are better than they actually are, reality and idealization blur into each other, and the difference between both can be the hardest thing to define for a romantic.
Being a romantic isn’t about wanting flowers, gifts, candlelit dinners, all those things people associate with romance. It’s about being able to sit in silence and feel the connection and love, not having to physically represent the love but still doing so because there’s nothing that makes you happier. Being a romantic is also about romanticizing ideas such as loss and friendship, and the smallest things such as making dinner or just watching the clouds pass by.
Being a romantic makes you admire every person that surrounds us. How fascinating it becomes that every person out there has something that makes them ultimately different and special, all these stories they have to tell, the feelings that they’ve felt, the crazy thoughts they had that they may or may not have shared, those few special things they do that help them get through the crazy world we live in. Those are the things that render them attractive, not what they show the world, but what they don’t.
All these beautiful things a romantic is able to appreciate also shows how easy it is to crush a part of a romantic’s world. And the pain that travels through the body when their heart is overwhelmed can make them hate ever admitting to themselves how much of a romantic they can be.
I myself as a romantic, have enjoyed the ride that is life. People may think I fall in love too much and that it is out of loneliness but it’s not that. I fall in love with the little pieces I pick up from every person, little details, things they do and say, that are so sincere and raw that therefore become attractive. It almost makes all the pain that always comes with it worth it… Almost.
I’m not sure if all this makes sense, I’m not even sure if it’s true for other romantics but it is this for me: Believing in all the beauty and love of the things that surround us, starting from the smallest grain of sand to the galaxies and stars above that behold, I believe, the greatest romantic of us all, God.


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