Sometimes I don't blame the sappy sad love stories or the useless emotional songs for who I have become today. It's true that when you grow older, you take in everything from the environment, from your surroundings, but I guess I'm born a hopeless romantic. I think love is beautiful. It is painful, and heartbreaking and sometimes stupid. But that's love. No matter how much you try to diss it, you feel it. Love for your precious possessions eventhough it's already useless and dead, love for a place eventhough it's deserted and old, love for someone eventhough love is complicated and messy and harsh. It's kind of like a beautiful pain, a beautiful mess. The kind of mess that's worth to get yourself into tangles because in the end, it unravels itself like a solved mystery. So it's fine to love, and it's fine to love too much. Only if it's worth the pain.
