I'm trying to remember when was the last romantic moments I experienced, I couldn't. Cheesy moments, perhaps. But not romantic. Because I think romanticism is something larger than life. You can only create it if you yourself is larger than life.
...
I was at the lookout in the beach the day before yesterday. It was late evening, and it was raining rather slightly. The wind blew strongly, and the waves crashed the rocks down the cliff like it's in the middle of a storm. From afar, the ocean looked so vast, so dark, so fierce, and somehow, the sight of it made my throat dry.
I told him about the girl who fell off the cliff, "Is this for her?" he pointed to the little white teddy bear at the fence. My eyes followed his stare, I felt like I was caught off guard, I felt like I was caught talking about something I don't have the right to. "Yes, I think so, it's her." I stammered.
...
I want to tell her, "Do you know what's the problem with us these days? We grow old too soon. It's as if we forget what it means to be young, to be fiery, to be so full of dreams and impossible ideas." But I didn't. I'm not sure she would like to hear it. So we talked about something else, we talked about what everyone these days talk about, we talked about our life, our jobs, and our families. We talk about something which means nothing.
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