Romance is Dead

Not mine, someone who writes far more eloquently than I could ever hope to do. But reading her lines (and in my mind, it is a her, I wonder why) makes me wonder what bitterness she has gone through, to speak of romance so coldly. And yet the harshness of the words resonate with me, telling me there's no use pretending: this is real life.

 Tell me a story before it all ends

 Something that’s wonderful, something pretend 

Give it a moral and maybe a lie 

Fill me with laughter, then make me cry. 

You know how it starts; “once” and then “time”

 And don’t worry much if it doesn’t all rhyme 

Throw in some danger, then throw a rope

 Lace it with irony, dose it with hope. 

But don’t get caught up love, and don’t start to feel

 Remember, my darling, that none of it’s real

 The dragons and damsels are all in your head

 Real life hails no heroes and romance is dead.

                                                                         -Violet Matter

Europe

Europe, the beating drum within my chest, shuttered like wild thing within this cage of flesh. It thrums it's beat against my own heart beat, building within expectation.
One week. One more week. Am I running away? Or running towards opportunity? I still haven't worked it out. Regardless, with trembling timid steps, I'll board that plane, the one that will fly me to Europe, that mysterious continent that calls to me like a Siren, willing me home.

Will Europe be my place? The one that quells this wanderlust of mine?
I'm feeling so poetic today, on edge with excitement and fear the words are flowing from me with little thought or regard. I'm going, really going.

I'm leaving all my problems behind, the depressing job, the cold winter, my broken heart. It stays in New Zealand as I fly away to become a new person. Is this cowardice or bravery?
I could  be whoever I want to be, collect my best qualities in a jar and display them proudly at the forefront, saying 'yes, this is me!' A new name, a new attitude, a new person. Intoxicating ideas.

She will always be a part of me, that sad solemn timid girl who's heart is lying smashed at her feet. She still is me in many (too many) ways. But I don't only want to be her anymore.

 I want to be someone more. I want to be something more.