when you've just given up on the hang ups of reality and you start to believe that true love is but a figment of a hopelessly romantic idiot's imagination, you slowly get this warmth inside your chest that you did not expect. a little soothing feeling that buds from your heartstring making you see a speck of hope for your tireless bouts with waiting, searching, crying over the love that does not show.
how do we get over the change into becoming the cynic out fear of growing old alone? how can a dreamer keep his dream intact as the world tries to rip it far far away? how does one wait for something that has no assurance of arriving?
who can answer me?
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