Well, that's an obvious title. But I was really struck by it today. I'm reading this book, and it's not at all a romance; more of an adventure. But it has a romantic element to it. This girl is trekking through the wilderness of Early 1800 Mississippi, with a bounty on her head (for numerous reasons from the previous books in the series) and her fiancé is chasing after her, though she doesn't know it. The two characters have been separated for a long time and fate is just not on their side. It's a pretty good book. I started the series probably about five-ish years ago, and am onto Book 5 of 7 (so far. I don't know if there will be more books after the seventh). But it just got me thinking about love and life and fate. I don't know. I've sometimes wondered if there really is a special someone for everyone. But I read books like these, and it feels so convincing, so true that an idealized (if a little crazy at times -- the girl character is just that: a character!) perfect love could happen, and I want to believe it with all my heart, but sometimes I wonder...
Is love just a choice that we make? That we happen to find a person that we could live with for the rest of our lives, and they agree that living with us would be fine, too? Or is it that magic moment like they portray in movies and books where beautiful music plays and the wind blows softly and the couple gaze into each others' eyes and the whole world is right? Or is that just a gimmick that Hollywood uses to sell titles?
I know I started this post about saying that I am a hopeless romantic. And I am. But lately I almost feel ... cynical about it. We all want to believe in love at first sight and finding the "One." And I believe he's somewhere out there... But then I start to doubt myself. Maybe he isn't out there, maybe I'm just fooling myself, trying to make myself feel better. Maybe I am wasting my time on waiting for this imaginary person. I don't know.
I just don't know.
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