There’s a bit of ecstasy in a romantic apocalypse —I really believe this. It’s so easy to get addicted to the tug of war and the push and pull of the love that cannot be or the one you can’t find. No matter what the reason behind it, there’s something about it that you just can’t let go of. I guess it must be like heroin to a junky—you know that hit may possibly kill you, but you can’t do without it. You don’t want to do without it.

Weren’t some of the most famous fantasy romance novels Romeo and Juliet and Gone With the Wind? Wasn’t Casablanca one of the most popular movies of all time? Everyone loves to watch the despair between two people whose love is out of their hands, yet so consuming and gut wrenching that they will endure anything to be with that other person. Even death. Yes, it’s very much an addiction, possibly worse than any drug—because you can feel everything no matter how addicted you are to this kind of tumultuous love. You feel the pain and the uncertainty with every waking breath—sometimes even in your sleep. It sneaks into your dreams like an evil demon that chases you and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get away.

There’s a reason why some call it an adventure romance. It’s not about two people going on some fun adventure together, hiking through some new mountain or sailing off on a booze cruise. It’s the twists and turns they have to endure to be together, the uncertainty and permanent state of limbo. The adrenaline rush of knowing you’re about to see the love of your life—and the not knowing if it will be the last time you ever see them.

When I originally started my campaign to save the pearls, I was dead set against finding a mate. I didn’t want an adventure romance, didn’t believe it really existed. I thought it was like an iconic screen star of the past—the epitome of glamour and perfection, bringing each scene to life effortlessly and without doubt. Something to think about when you look at how much the world has changed.

Now here I am, possibly on the brink of my own romantic apocalypse. Jamal says we’re going to mate, but he’s yet to set a date. He keeps pushing it off, but my time is running out. I should be working on finding another mate with my limited free time. Instead, I’m trying to save the pearls and reading fantasy romance novels, searching for some key to unlocking the success of my own. In the meantime, I’m getting more and more attached to the painfully delicious ups and downs of this feeling. It’s like a rollercoaster I never want to get off of.

Will I or won’t I survive my own romantic apocalypse? I suspect that I may need to get off the rollercoaster if I want to live past my 18^th birthday. Yet if I somehow do, whether Jamal finally lives up to his word, I find another or my father’s experiment works, will I be destined to a life filled with the horrific ecstasy that is connected to this kind of relationship? It’s hard to figure out which is better.

Source: Blogs.discovery.com