I always ask myself why I tend to over-analyze things and why, even after so many tiny sparks that failed to catch fire, I still insist on hoping that maybe this one might be different - that maybe this time it's going to roar into a blazing pit and consume me entirely.

  Maybe it's not really that one person that I truly love, but my idea of love; my expectations.  The "other" is just a medium; a victim of circumstance.  He just happened to be there within my periphery.

  But isn't that how it always starts?

  The perfect timing, the perfect setting, the right mood, all sums up to create the illusion of the perfect person.  It could be anybody, right? (This is me being cynical.)

  But no matter how I rationalize things, and regardless of all probabilities, the heart will always want what it wants, defying reason and even unfortunate circumstances.  
  Will I ever learn?  Perhaps never.  This heart is too stubborn.  Or maybe just too optimistic.