It’s silly. But after a couple of bad break-ups, I find my self still believing in love.
Yes, love. Like in the fairy tales.
I tried many times to give up on love, because I’m just tired of getting hurt. And I’m tired of searching.
As I grow up, reality starts to hit me slowly but sure. And I have begun to lower my expectations. Eventually hoping that I’ll learn not to expect anything. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and it’s just not ready to give up yet.
I hope someday I’ll get to say to my self: thank you for holding on to what you believe.
But I’ll always prepare for the worst. When what I expect doesn’t come at all.