The Romantic Cynic

I don’t get it. Why do a lot of people believe that being romantic and being cynical are mutually exclusive? If we are to consult a dictionary, a cynic is defined as a person who “questions the goodness of things” while being romantic is defined as a state of doing things as an act of love. I don't see anything mutually exclusive about these definitions.

I must admit, for the past few years, I have swung like a pendulum from being cynical to being a hopeless romantic. Maybe because a number of times in my life, I was pushed to ask if loving someone is really worth the pain.

Now, looking back at the things that happened, I realized that I have evolved into achieving something close to an equilibrium. From being totally cynical to being totally romantic, I learned to become a romantic cynic. It may sound absurd or awkward but the truth is, this can be the most stable state that a person could achieve. Being romantically cynical is being “realistic”.

I still believe that love is worth all the hassle and misgivings that needs to be gone through but instead of daydreaming, I also know that in finding "the one" whom I will love for the rest of my life, I have to understand that I must first love myself.

I’m cynical, I don’t easily get hooked or I don’t jump at every opportunity to date guys. I question their intentions really well, I try to be as level-headed as possible and I try to be sensitive of what my heart feels all at the same time.

Romanticism and cynicism are not mutually exclusive terms and having a little of both in our lives will probably help us survive.

Ever Lusting Love

I was drowning, gasping for air and choking in pure desperation.

Water was burning me and fire was freezing me, like irony in a sarcastically mushy love song.

You untied me from the desperation, attended to my emotionally wounded soul, and held my hand to ease my enduring pain.

I moved away, hesitated, examined your entirety.  Unhurriedly, your frozen skin inhabited my burning stare.

In that moment’s shyness, there was understanding, in that scene’s uncertainty, there was commitment.

Things were vague, disconcerted, undecided, hushed.

You were peace, I was subtlety, we silently entwined.

I continued drowning, gasping for air and choking, not in desperation but in throbbing anticipation.

You freed me through your sea-colored eyes, passion forced itself through, lingered and we drowned, gasped for air and choked -
together.

For the better.
For a little bit longer.
For a bid to reach forever.

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