A happy ending.

Is it ever so wrong to hope and pray for your own happy ending?

Here I am again, torturing myself by watching the one thing in this world that gives me even just a small glimmer of hope that things will turn out okay for me. I don’t know if it’s the sadomasochistic tendencies that every single one of us holds deep inside, but yeah. I’m watching it all over again.

It’s funny how much something like love can just take over your life and make you do things you didn’t think you’d ever do, whether they be good things or bad things. Sometimes, all you can do is just to take a step back and look at the end-product of what you’ve done – you might like what you see, you might not. Either way, you can’t tell anyone else that it’s their fault; no. You were the one trying to come up with your own happy ending.

So yeah, going back to my own happy ending.

In this wonderfully-written and beautifully-shot glimmer of hope that I always go back to, I’m told that you just can’t stop living your life after experiencing heartbreak. You have to keep on living. You have to see where the story goes. You have to see how your story ends.

But is it ever so much to ask for your happy ending to arrive after you’ve gone through enough heartbreak, whether it be because of love or otherwise? I’m not here to put my misery front and center, nor am I here to make a heartfelt Craigslist plea for any lady to go out with me. I’m just this guy, staring out in the dark, night sky, asking the same, age-old question that everyone has asked once in their lifetime: “When will it be me? When will it be my turn?”

I won’t start telling everyone that my life is worse than everyone else’s. I’m willing to bet a year of my salary plus all of my possessions that somewhere out there, someone’s going through tougher crap than I am; my prayers are with whoever that person is. Right now, I just wanna take stock of how my life is so far against how I would’ve wanted it to be right now.

In common parlance, one might say that I’m not living a “regular existence” for my age. Naaah… Kids my age are just beginning to learn and get their feet wet in the dog-eat-dog world of working with grown-ups. As for me? Well, I’ve been working for 3 years. For 3 years, I’ve been forced to learn the value of money, how it really does not grow on trees, and that, as people would so aptly put it, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.
On that last point, I strongly beg to differ.

Maybe having your own happy ending is just a matter of perspective. Maybe other people don’t call it a happy ending. For others, it’s a career. For others, it’s financial security.

For me? Even though no one I know will believe me when I say this, I’m still that old-fashioned, goody-two shoes gentleman who believes he’ll meet that one girl he’ll sweep off her feet, and ride off into the sunset with. Yeah, I’m a hopeless romantic.

I’m not here to say that I’m perfect, though. No one ever is. In the course of finding my own happy ending, I’ve become something I prayed to God I would never become. I played with the emotions of women, leading them to believe that they were the only one in my heart. In my quest for my own happy ending, I’ve become the very dragon I expected to slay just before entering the tower to rescue my one true love.

For all of the things I’ve done wrong, I give out right now a heartfelt plea for forgiveness. I’m sorry for ever playing with the emotions of the very part of existence that reminds us of the beauty that God has placed on this earth. Right now, I return to who I was, and slay the monster that I’ve become.

In a few days, something will happen that I’m totally sure will guarantee me a shot at my happy ending. I’ve set up a date with the girl that best personifies what I want in a lady, and more. She might not be the perfect girl, but nor am I the perfect guy; still, that doesn’t deter me from doing my best in becoming the man she needs me to be – the man who will never hurt her, the man who will always take care of her, the man who will hold her hand through all of the hurt and pain this world may throw at her.

I will be there for her. With God as my witness right now, I will be.

Most people will tell me that I’m not ready to take on something this big at my age. To them I ask, when is it ever right? When you have all of the money in the world? When you have that corner office you so desperately desire, with that 4x4 you’ve been dreaming for all of your life?

No. I make this as a manifesto against people trampling on the hopes and dreams of people who dare to dream and dare to hope farther than they ever have. Just because you weren’t able to reach your own happy ending, doesn’t mean you should keep others from theirs.

The glimmer of hope that I have is currently on pause. I now go back to it, still as uncertain as I was before writing all this, but more hopeful that things will turn out better.

We just have to keep living, because we have to see how the story ends.

And just like that, it’s all over again. I’ve cried, I’ve smiled, and I’ve cried and smiled. It’s funny how there’s one last tidbit of advice it gives me, and how it’s so damn applicable to everything that’s happening in my life right now – Destiny is building the bridge to the one you love. You can expect Destiny to make sure that two people end up with each other, but these two people should still want to be there. They must make that phone call. They must get to that bookstore, to that restaurant, to that one place where everything will begin.

Enough will silly games and pointless conquests; I’m building the bridge to the one lady that holds my heart. I just hope and pray to God that she does too.