Idealism...

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life. Some of them hurtful, some very thoughtful. Idealistic. A romantic. A romantic idealist. These are the words that were thrown out and struck me recently. The funny thing, to me, was that the title wasn’t meant to be a compliment necessarily. I find that to be disheartening. I listen to my friends whose hearts I deeply admire. Whose minds I deeply respect. They all seem to be echoing the same cry for something beautiful and perfect and true. True love, perfect romance, a beautiful intertwining of souls and bodies into one wonderful shape. Is that too much to ask? “Yes” is the answer I receive far too often. The majority of the time, to be perfectly honest. And I sit wondering what my flaw is. What my curse is. To hold out so much hope for something so unreasonable. The fact is that I’ve heard those stories of perfect harmonious love affairs that led to perfect harmonious marriages. They exist somewhere in the cracks of the broken and painful failings. They do exist. For me though? I’m not sure. I’d like to think so, but the truth is that it’s quite possible that they will never come true. My only comfort is that I know somebody who holds my life, and he has my best interests at heart. My cry to all those hurting and hoping is to always, always remember that our idealism is not merely our stretching imagination, but the intended reality that was meant for all of us.