Hopeless romantic.

That's what a few of my friends would use to describe me.

And the genre of novels I read really doesn't help.

I read to escape my lonely reality. This place is too lonely. Without my big big family, without the whining of my nieces, without my brothers ordering me to do things, without my aunt nagging at me early in the morning, without my sisters who nag just like my aunt. Without my best friends who are always up to do silly things, without some friends who would annoy me saying they wanna see me but didn't. Without my dad who always try to make me stay with him.

I miss them. All the time. Every second of every hour of every day of every week of every month until I get to see them again.

So I read. I read to escape all the loneliness, to try and ignore the hole in my chest that seems to be there whenever I'm here.

But when I read, the loneliness worsens. I go from missing all these people I love to missing someone that I don't even know his existence. Makes me miss the good morning/goodnight texts I never had,  makes me wish I've a welcome-back hug to look forward to, makes me wish for so many unrealistic things. Well, unrealistic enough for the near future. 

I wonder if I would ever get to feel everything I felt when I read in reality. Would my heart ever flutter just at the sight of someone, would my eyes be able to tell I'm loves just by seeing him boring into my eyes, would I ever see someone who makes everything else in the world seems nonexistent?

Blergh. So cheesy. See. Told ya I'm such a hopeless romantic.