It distresses me to see the state of romance in college. Romance has been disregarded as nothing but childish fancy. To feel like they do in the ballads and the fairy tales is immature, they say. The mentality is that romance exists only in the plane of movie screen and novel page, but not in our third dimension, and that one should not waste time daydreaming about it.
How can we give up on something so precious? Other than love, what emotion comes as close to that of romance? That heat, that electricity. It fires through your body, from the soles of your feet to the tips of your hair. Then you feel it all around you, that static tickling your skin, raising you up so that you may reach even the farthest of stars. Do you bring it back for her, to put the star and her in perspective, so that she may see that she truly is the most beautiful? Or do you take her by the hand and fly away to dance in the sky, where you feel as if you’re the only ones in the world, when you feel as if then will last forever.
There is no such thing as a hopeless romantic, only hopeful romantics. The very fact that they are romantics means that the possibility of the love they’ve always dreamed about does exist for them. The only people who have no hope are the unromantic. Because they’ve disbelieved romance, disregarded romance, disrespected romance, no one will want to share romance with them. It’s psychological projection. And even if someone were willing, the unromantic heart will be too closed to receive, perhaps even too hard to understand.
There is no such thing as a hopeless romantic. Romantics are, by nature, hopeful. And they have, by nature, plenty of hope for them.