Once upon a time I was an hopeless romantic, I believed in deep meanfull conversations under the stars and that little moments should be treasured forever. I felt I was in fact living a fairy tale and love was my knite on a white horse. Everything was intense but passed in a flash and when I realised it wasn't there anymore. All was an illusion.
That illusion made me discredit love but without never stop believing in it.
Now love was just wiser, more down to earth. Capable of dreaming but not in a deep sleep. I figured I grew.
I did, but one day I took my feet of the earth and I dared myself to fly again. I figured it was possible to live in a fairytale again but just for a moment- the present.
The problem with the present is that it's eternal just in our hearts and eventually the memories are not good enough to feed it. Love went away, I tried to pursue it with all my strength but life was stronger. I felt impotent and cinical about it.
Fortunately, life gives and takes. I guess she understood that my hope matter enough to keep. She improved love and managed to transform him into something both real and fantastic at the same time.
Now I don't know what part of love should I pursue. The reality or the fairy tale?
