I find it hard to write romance because it feels so much like lying. Like, look, do we have to spend this much time and energy when we all know how things will end? There's heartbreak ahead, kid. Cheating, and lying, and disappointment.
No, you don't find the great love. In the end, you find someone who'll lie, cheat, and disappoint you still, but you'll be too old and too tired to let it get to you, so you find it easier to forgive all the lying, and cheating and disappointment.
That's the truth, kid. So, we can pretend this whole dance of romance is magical. Maybe it's worth pretending that for a few moments, love works because of magic. But at the end of the day, love will work not because of magic, but because of desperation, co-dependency, and the acceptance of defeat.
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