I am shifting my blog uploading here for today first because I've posted too many in one day in my other blog I'm afraid I might irritate those who read it, but I can't help it. I have too many things to say. There's just no one as of the moment who I could talk to or who'll listen to me.

I just realized that there's an irony in a situation where there's a romantic in a realistic world. It simply cannot be. To be a romantic requires superfluous emotions, too much that tends to bend realism a little, jazzing up the flavors and spices of life. To be romantic needs well-versed and/or well-quantified expression of emotions and thoughts. To be a realist means to take everything as it is. Detail by detail. Scar by pimple by wart by curve by grace by fart by fragrance, by everything as life realistically presents it.

However, what if the two were put side by side? The meaning differs completely depends which word comes first.

To be romantic about realism, about life is almost synonymous to being eternally optimistic but it does not really require it to be so. A romantic about life would most probably enjoy every bit and every second of it as if it were his last. To live life to the fullest. Overlooking at the pain and suffering... there is a greater thing about life and that's living.

To be realistic about romantisicm, realistic about love... now pessimism steps in... or maybe glides in. A realistic romantic would probably see all scars, imperfections but love anyway. A realistic romantic would see opportunities in other people, testing waters, realizing that people are controlled by uncontrollable hormones and emotions making them fall in love. But there is a possibility for a new love. Another person. Realistic love... what is it?

Then I wonder where I am right now. I am trapped in the middle of a hanging bridge. I sway from side to side not knowing which one I believe in. This world is so confusing. I know I'm a romantic, but I know I should be realistic because being realistic would mean being practical. But a romantic would see meaning and purpose and all that jazz in these things.

So here I am. Totally in love. At the perfect view of life and living it in a new chapter. How ironic. It's hard choosing between the two because I kind of not believe in the immediate replacement and dousing of a fire. Embers glow. The heat radiates. I felt warmth and I cannot deny that it kept me alive in those frostbite moments. Now...

I honestly don't know. That's why I'm starting to not believe in what people tell me anymore. I start to stubbornly not listen what they tell me. I'm straining to listen to myself, trying to figure out what I really think and believe in.

What a tiny voice; I can barely hear it.