Rants of an incurable romantic *angst*

There are days when i discover a true love story. A real life one. Its not in a story mode. It is of two people and their pages, littered across the networks. You need the indulgence and the resolve to find it. And a good stalker brain. [Don't worry. I am a good stalker, if there is one.]

Love is not only joyous to those who live it, but to those who see it too. Its like a sun rise, a promise that somewhere in the world, good things are happening. Its like a summer rain, a relief that the things you imagine, the things you want, exists. If not with you.

It amazes my how people find happiness the most random fashions, out of nowhere. Someone calls an old class mate after six years and boom, in 20 days they decide they will spend the rest of their life together. Someone gives up on love, meets another someone in an online matrimony site, exchange emails and then proceed on a very unconventional way to matrimony. I can tell so many stories here, but they all tell amazing tales of love. And makes me wonder why its happening to all these people and not me?

I mean, i am nothing, but somewhere out there, there should be someone who is nothing too, right? Or someone who likes nothing? I am embarrassing myself.

What i am saying is, the same way these stories make me happy and hopeful, they also awakens despair and resentment. Its out there, everyone says it, but i cant find it. There is nothing called love, you live with what you get, someone says, but the hopeless, hopeless romantic in me refuse to believe that.

Today it was someone i know(who doesn't know me, much), who, after a struggling life, found his him, and i say none deserve it more than he does.

May be love is not a privilege. May be it has to be earned. May be i have always been so happy with me, i don't need someone to make me happy. May be i need to work for it. Plot. Plan. May be it really is not for everyone. May be i should stop talking now.

But so many things are wrong with me/for me right now. I cant stop wishing for this one thing to be right. And then may be, everything would align right too.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
-Lord Alfred Tennyson