The axiom of connection

 I love romance, from the moment I gained consciousness I knew I wanted to be swept away in every trope ever written in the books I was reading. It didn’t matter to me who it was or how it came to be because I always believed we can receive every fragment that romance embodies in all the forms as long we had faith. 

My favorite trope are the ones of the strangers we meet in a place we hold no importance to. The ones we find ourselves thinking of months or years down the line, reaffirming our belief in a superior being.  For how could anything as random but marvelous as this be without the interventions of superiority.

We would fall in love over  a book we had similar interests in and would spend hours on pavement seats talking about  old jobs and new beginnings. Sometimes it might be through a mutual friend and we may be so captivated at the idea of ourselves and something worthy shall blossom.

 

Maybe it would be through an enthusiastic parent or worn down hostel dorm. Perhaps at a cafe we both love, seating on a green chair catching the disdain in our eyes at the same time.  It might even have been at a party drunk out of minds, genuinely laughing like it was our last. 

Our romance would blossom, whimsically passionately and dearly.  We would hurt deeply, yet seek comfort in each others arms.  We would love and complete each others sentences, maybe rile each other up. We would agree to disagree, agree to agree.  It would be our best days and our worst, we would see each other through it all. 

And because the axiom of zero must exist and we shall return to that, our romance must be true, it must fill us so deeply that should we return to nothing, everything left behind would carry a trace of us. 

You might misunderstand me and presume I was referring to romance only of the Eros kind.  And if we were being didactic that wouldn’t be wrong.  But I must tell you romance is everywhere, in everyone, friends or lovers. With a stranger or a friend who was once a stranger. 

In fact  my favorite romance was with someone who was neither a friend nor a stranger. For the while that I knew them I was moved to a field I saw in rose colored glasses.

I will not ask you to be like me, I seek to only inform you of the many ways that you can experience the wonders of passion and romance should you ever be unsure. For I know for a fact that a time like this will come, and when it does you may view it as I have.