"We can work this out," you said. You told me to fight for our relationship but never gave me any credit for doing my best.

I'm a cynical romantic and nothing can change that.

When we grow up, we're told that boy are "icky" and girls have "cooties." Those "cooties" and that "ickiness" turn into forbidden glances and despicable smiles. Just like the seasons change, those stolen looks turn into real life love. But what happens when you're skepticism about love doesn't let you move forward?

Fall.

We were in fall. The leaves were changing so fast it made my head spin; one minute it was green then the next it was orange. The brisk air somehow made its way into becoming warm. The way I felt unstoppable changed as the leaves fell. How was I going to cope with the winter when just this change was enough to knock me off my feet? I couldn't find the courage to speak up about my fears but by the time I was ready, winter had come around and the idea of the warm sun was just a daydream away. You were a daydream away.

Winter

You told me you love me and that we could make it if I tried. What you didin't realize was that while I was stuck in winter, you were already in spring. We were in two vastly different seasons. I was stuck in a blizzard unable to see in front of me and you were in a field of blooming flowers with a clear sky and full heart. I wish I told you that I was frozen in place and that I couldn't find the strength to pull my feet out from the ice blocks. I so badly wanted to be able to hold your hand and finally break free from the ice and join in that field of flowers but I was never able to. You held onto my hand so tight that I started to lose circulation. Your determination to pull me through the winter so I could see what you see killed me because I had no idea what to do. I wanted to go so badly, but I couldn't. I finally moved my feet and I was so elated to be able to join you but as i looked down, I realized that your tears had melted the ice and you were not in sight anymore.

You say you don't want this anymore. Once again, my feet got the best of me and now you're gone.

So what is it like being a cynical romantic? It's the days where you want to scream from the top of a building because of how much pressure you feel in your lungs. It's the day you curse yourself because of your inability to open up and accept love. It's the dark void in your heart that seems to always be ripped at the seams. It's running before you can register what's going on because of your overwhelming instinct to fly away. It's the little girl who is scared because she never could leave her phase of stolen glances. It's more than just not trying or caring. It's not one sided. It's the torture of wanting something so bad but not being able to see far enough ahead to have it. It's the broken clock in which I was too late because by the time the ice under my feet turned to grass, you were already in summer.