It's 2:40 AM. Bonnie Raitt wails out a line from I Can't Make You Love Me. My eyes don't burn as much as they usually do. Perhaps it's the anti-allergy medication that i'm supposed to take daily, but never do.
You can't make your heart feel something it won't, she whispers. What a whiny song. I thought I was immune to this kind of stuff. Apparently not.
I watched Sleepless in Seattle today, a movie in which a grieving Tom Hanks looks for love after the death of his wife...after only a year. I know it may be normal for some people to do that, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to love someone so soon after the death of someone that important to me. But hey, it's fictional.
I don't really know what possessed me to watch this movie other than the word Seattle. It's really no secret that I love Seattle more than anywhere else in the world for some reason or another. I'm not the type of person to enjoy the rain, or the cold, or introverted people. Yet, the grip Seattle has on me is unmistakable. I could wake up every day in some dingy studio apartment, brew a cup of decaf coffee bought from Pikes Place Market, and find myself inexplicably happy.
I've been wanting to move for some time now. I moved to this city about a year and a half ago after the loss of a long term relationship, and what else to do but move back home to be around your family?
If you couldn't tell, I'm joking.
I'm not the kind of person to want to burn up for half of the year only to freeze my ass off for the other half. Seasonal depression is a real thing, people. It's not a joke. Vitamin D deficiency will kick your ass!
All jokes aside, I find it funny how we'll romanticize things. No man will see you, freeze, and rethink all of his life plans just...because. We all wish life would treat us the same way it treats people in romcoms, but it won't. Reality is a frigid bitch, and real love takes time and patience.