I am a hopeless romantic.
Why all romantics are labeled “hopeless?” Would pragmatists then be labeled "hopeful?" Is it really the truth that if one is romantic at heart, he is destined for a dreary future—-a life of gray and predictable dullness? That's seems a bit backwards. Wouldn't you expect that the romantics are the one's who have hope--hope that one day the world (or at least their world) will be filled with love? And not just love, romance, love twisted and folded into poetry and Valentine's cards and rendez-vous in dark cafe corners.
Is it hopeless to believe that flowers were meant to be given? That the lips' second and sweetest function is to be kissed? That chocolate should always come in little red, heart-shaped boxes?
Is it hopeless to love nothing better than to catch him looking at you across the room? To want to exclaim to the world that you've finally found what everyone else spends their life looking for?
Well, if it is hopeless, then I'm happy to be doomed.