I know it is my own fault.
No excuses (no travel partner, not enough money, my family needs me, haven't met The One) are real.
I am afraid and so I satisfy myself with the barest of hope, feeding my heart hollow dreams that barely keep me alive instead of taking the risk.
The man of my dreams... I love him when he is blurry, just a general idea of a person. Then my imagination betrays me and changes this non-descript fictional character into an individual I know. There are details. There is possibility. And I am afraid.
I pull back, down play any (reciprocated?) hope and brush them away with careless words. Nothing changes if I do nothing. I am the classification of crazy if I expect a different outcome from the same actions performed over and over.
Yet, I can't give up the day dreams and take the risk... baby steps first... maybe.