Positivity Vs Romanticism

It is said that only incomplete love can be romantic.

This, I deem, the greatest plague of my life.

As positive a person as I am, I am beguiled by romanticism just as much.

Some of you may wonder what exactly the problem in this is.

Let me tell you what the problem seems to be.

Although many of you mark a direct proportion of positivity to romanticism (Example, “You think so whimsically because, despite all the lemons that’s hurled your way, you still choose to remember it for all the good that it was”), I must tell you that that is indeed a very false train of thought.

Romanticism, as can be deduced by the definition I described it by, inherently aims to glorify the lack of something in your life, whereas positivism, comes by looking at the profusion you have been blessed with.

It is, to put it in brief, absence versus abundance.

The two are simply binaries, they cannot function together.

If you have been following my writings, you probably see me thwarting between the two like no (wo)man’s business, as is the reality in my life every single day.

I wasn’t always a very sunshine positive person, in fact for my entire high school and college life I was a bent out of whack negative human being. I was innately brimming with sorrow, and it wouldn’t take you very long to see that.

I was a container of melancholy and my life force was a concoction of tiny particles that went in hunt of sadness to fill my ravenous appetite for misery.

Okay, that sounds a tad dramatic but it really wasn’t far from the truth.

Positivity is a considerably new found florid gem I have stumbled upon that has turned my life inside out, or upside down (downside up actually!), or however you may have it.

Positivity to me, is more than just being happy, it means having a life force that attracts goodness, love, gratitude and kindness every single day.  It is the sanguinity that constitutes your very insides. I won’t lie to you, there are a myriad of things that descend to stir up negativity in my life, however the difference between them and romanticism is that I actually like romanticism, I encourage it, I CHOOSE it and welcome it with arms wide open.

I am a romantic, since as long as I can remember I like to think of that friend who walked away, that boyfriend who didn’t make his way into my forever, that other guy whose relation was so toxic, yet so flattering, they were all special, they were all, are all, a ‘part of me’.

I think of them over and over and over again, every day, in every way, I think of them. I think of the good times we had together and I romanticize them into starlets of an ethereal eternity we spent by each other. I think of what they added to my life, what they changed, what they took away. I think of who they may have become today, of how they are doing, of who their friends and lovers are. I wonder if they still think of me. I wonder if they knew me today, how would things be for us?

I constantly bring in these characters when I celebrate my victories, I wonder if they would be proud of me. I think of them sometimes when I face hardships, I wonder if they would care if they were to know. I think of them even during my mundane, everyday activities, I picture them see me in my mind’s eye as I do things and say things.

I know it sounds as though I dwell on the past a tab bit much and here arises my conflict, I in fact do not.

I am a romantic but I am not an unhappy person. I LOVE my life and the people in it even more so and I am grateful for everything I have, deeply, movingly grateful for it every single day.

Yet there is half of me that I seem to have sworn off to whomever takes the bow out of my life. They become like ghosts, I think friendly ghosts, who seem to always look over me.

It isn’t easy to segregate my being, my mind and my heart, into these two parts of myself because giving myself to people who aren’t there is like falling in love with a void, with a crack, it can never reciprocate, and I remain with each such thought, incomplete and unfulfilled.

Lately I have tried so many inane ways to justify this precarious edifice my thoughts and feelings loom into but the truth just pounded on me yesterday, that I am haplessly a romantic.

As I continue to battle these incongruences within, another day has leaped by..


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