I’ve always been an avid reader, novels, graphic novels, short stories, poetry. It’s so lovely losing yourself in a fantasy. Living vicariously through the characters we grow to care for. I’ve never had a passionate love story and I’ve always imagined how it would be. There are certain concepts, magic, superpowers and the like that I understand can’t be manifested from the stories I read but being in love always felt so attainable. One day I’d have it, a passionate love with someone I could give every part of myself. At what point does that become as far fetched as magic and supernatural elements?

Every day just feels so depressing, I used to idolize live, so pure and naively. The reality is dating sites filled with unsolicited vulgar images and no viable suitors in sight.

I used to read epic stories or even cute fluff thinking if nothing else live was something I could reach. Now these stories cut me to the core, is love real? Or is it as fabricated as any other element of a fantasy novel? The older I get the more I succumb to the realization, this world wasn’t meant for me.