For someone who doesn't consider herself overly romantic (Well, in the candlelight, candy, and flowers sense, I suppose; I do often fancy myself a female Heathcliff, roaming the hills, all dark and mysterious. Anyway.), I've been chasing romance my whole life. I just sort of realized this. I chase dramatic, idealized landscapes--California, Arizona, Maine--the mountains, the desert, the ocean, thinking that what I'm missing must be there. Or that I'll be complete once I'm matched up with the perfect circumstance.
Yeah, that sounds pretty ideal and romantic to me. The problem (more's the pity) is that we'll never be completed by something outside of us. It's impossible. We can only build and rebuild from the inside-out. The rest is just, well, bonus. It's complimentary. It enhances; it doesn't complete.
And now that we know that, what next? I don't know, but I have a feeling the first step has something to do with romancing ourselves.