Finding love is so hard sometimes. Really hard.

I tell myself to stop searching. Most times I do but from time-to-time, a little vibe called quest prickles through and becomes an enabler to my hopeless searches.

I come across somebody, she may be sweet, possesses an intangible that helps her stand out, invokes mystery and extracts my usually dormant curiosity. I end up digging her. I’m feeling her, I don’t know the textures to the feelings but I’m encouraged to find out the definition.

She ends up being indifferent to me. Not repulsed by me nor interested in me because she is too busy feeling someone else.

That’s just how it goes sometimes.

The water will flow like that sometimes.

You can swim with it or you can swim against it.
Put all your chips on your table and trust your hand or not.
Dive in, not knowing how deep or shallow is the pool.

Me, I’m tired of trying. Tired of the awkwardness, the forced energy being labelled as “organic”.

I’m an hopeless romantic, sans the romantic part.

For now, I’m cool with that.