There is a certain sadness.... A bittersweet melancholy that I can't shake. I think it feels like I'm longing for something, but I no longer know what I'm longing for. It feels weird, too. Since I was in High School, even before that, I've always had something that I was persuing. Usually it was more someone I was chasing, actually. This etherial Beatrice figure that I've spoken of before. My ideal of the perfect girl... the one who would make everything perfect and happy if she would only see me.

But I've lost that somewhere. It's a harsh bit of reality, maybe, that is coming on at last. There IS no perfect girl. And of course I've always known that in some kind of objective way... but.... I don't know, maybe this is finally some manner of wisdom setting in.
I've found a girl, I have a girl.... and of course she's not perfect... but I think more than anything else, what I'm missing is the idea that she was perfect.

In the movie High Fidelity, John Cusack spends the entire movie overthinking everything, and fantasizing about everyone. He romanticises every girl until the end of the movie, when he realizes that, were he ever to actually go out with them, they would prove to have the same real problems that we all suffer from. That's a harsh lesson, ladies and gentlemen, that no matter how hard you wish it or how deeply you think about it, nothing is ever going to be perfect. And worse, all that wishing and thinking builds up a ficticious image in our minds. So that now, when I think about how perfect I thought [girl of your choosing] was, the real girl was almost nothing like what I had been obsessing about.

I'm not sure if it's funny or if it's sick how many different times I've gone through that same cycle. Or with how many girls. Probably someone reading this right now has been idolized in my head... you should be complimented.

But that isn't the point. The point is that I have someone right now, and that I am happy. So why do I miss that longing? I've been on the edge of heartbreak for so long, hanging on the edge with nothing but hope... I guess I'm not used to being content. Am I longing for that same pain, then? How masochistic is that?

It was a sweet depression. It was a bittersweet saddness. Goodbye, Dreams.