I've realized something completely impossible about myself....

I am 'a hopeless'.

Well, I suppose I should get a little more specific. I am a hopeless romantic.

I know people say it all time, and I wish I knew those people, because then I, we, could empathize together. I mean, how does one cure this infectious feeling? One day, I am completely fine...satisfied with my daily routine. Waking up, having eggs for breakfast, working 8 hours and then returning home. Spending my nights usually alone in my bedroom, thinking, doodling, surfing the internet...mostly just trying to figure out where I want my life to lead to... and then one day, WHAM. It hits me. One late night, staying up a ridiculous amount of time past my regular bedtime, watching a romantic film that I know will put a fork in my road. But do I look away? No. I become absorbed in the romance, the story, the fairy tale.

Not to say that my own story is not in the process of being written... but it seems like I am at the 19th chapter already and still, nothing particularly mind blowing has happened. Where is the climax? Where is the suspence and action? I mean, I have had my moments...but where is my Prince Charming? And why has he not arrived? I do not ask for a ring, nor do I plead for a devotion of His love for me... just an outstretched hand, ready and waiting to take mine for an extended period of time. It seems like most people around me have short stories. Their stories are how life should be. Things happen in perfect order, spaced out neatly for a completely satisfying read. Like, one of those books you pick up at the Library and just know you're going to like it after you've only read the title. 

I am like that book, the one that has been worn up until the 217th page.. and then the rest of the pages lay crisp, waiting to arrive at the willing eyes of a reader looking for a heart warming tale. I am not a cookie cutter, and for that, I guess, reluctantly at times, I am grateful for... but as I watch 12 of my friends this spring, become wed in faithful and everlasting matrimony.. it seems but a small thing to ask....just for Him, my Prince Charming to be here, with me.

I sort of feel like Repunzel.. where I am waiting in my tower, except when I look out of my tower, there I am , surounded by countless other stone turrets with peering and patient ladies. Hair long and braided...waiting for their prince. My hair is short, and I am doomed to wait for it to grow longer and longer, until finally I can start the second lifetime, or so it seems, of waiting...

I peer out, across the horizon in front of me, to have my heart skip a beat when the silhouette of a young man riding a tall, dark stallion rides into view...only to have him pass my tower by and retire at the base of another tower. Sighing, I watch the whole thing unfold before my very eyes...the butterflies, the loving glances, long embraces and silly smiles, all of which I wish to have as my own.

So when? I ask myself this day after day, time after time. And all I have to do is push through, sit tight, and wait. Patience is always said to be a virtue. My question is...what if I don't want that one? What if being patient just is not my lot in life? Am I meant to be eager and anxious for all of eternity? 

I know this is a test, and when I find him, my patience will be at its best. I will have been calmed and made whole through that very silhouette that will become the image of the man I always dreamt of, the ending to my long novel, the very bursting in my heart.

A sorrow that has burdened my heart for a few years, which really is not many at all....will be lifted. One day, I can rejoice at the very sound of the one so familiar as to call me His.  And we will be a beacon to one another. A friend, a love, and a hopeless romantic.

And what happens if I we've already found each other, and just don't know it quite yet? How's that for a cliff-hanger?

The End.