Today was the birth anniversary of my inamorato,
the perfect illusion my heart beats for.
The reason for why I thought my dream love story was finally born.
The book in where, he is the hero and I, the heroine.
Like Ruby Sparks, he comes to life (or so I thought).
I started to become dreamy, hopeful, and in love
like everything was all rosy and bright.
I had believed he’s the one:
the key to unlock my heart,
the knight in shining armor saving the damsel in distress,
the prince from the fairytale stories,
Kate’s Prince William,
Elizabeth Bennet’s Darcy,
or Ruth’s Boaz.
And I felt like the bliss won’t just end because I have him…
Until my dream world starts to shatter and reality begins to be unveiled.
My so-called perfect love story vanish in thin air.
And the once eidolon has gone a total stranger,
or perhaps, a bête noire.
The romantic atmosphere has turned cold and blue;
like an abandoned castle;
a beauty that has fallen into oblivion.
It hurts to realize that I made a fool out of myself
believing of something that was merely
a pigment of my imagination.
And so today is a reminder of my idiocy.
A commemoration that his red-letter day is my heart’s demise.
Alles Gute zum Geburtstag Meine Illusion.
Cheers to reality!