When does the torture end? It seems as though every chance at happiness I’m presented with, is met with disappointment and humiliation. The very notion of good within my life, is the perfect opportunity for the opposite, to prove it hasn’t left me alone. Vulnerability knows nothing compared to the nakedness of my heart and I’m forced to choose between what feels right and what really is. The problem with the hopeless romantic is not in their ability to find

love in the dark, but their inability to realize there’s a reason it was there. Why I can’t leave well enough alone is beyond me. I spend countless hours running impossible scenarios through an inconsolable mind. Where simplicity and candor meet deceit and intricacy, I find myself lost. The subtle nuances of her expressions and gestures are sent through an endless crucible searching for an answer to a simple enough question: What does she believe I am to her? The answer is as elusive as the means to find it. The derision I face at every move I make has taken its toll on me and I’m tired. The romantic in me won’t let it go, but the realist, says I must. I know I can’t leave her alone, but I can’t be with her either. As always, once more I’ll find her in the dark and once more I’ll try to bring her into my light… Sanity is the cost of love and I, I am already paid in full.