A movie I saw yesterday was a little too close to my heart for comfort. This disillusioned chappie writes travelogues on haunted hotels. Yes it's 1408 I am talking about. And he writes them to prove to the world there is no such thing as a ghost. He believes in no heaven or God ever since his little daughter dies of cancer. I understand that. But what prompted me to lose my faith?
I don't have an answer to that.
Yet, some things still affect me. When I see a little girl smile conspiratorially at her brother, I grin too. When I see an otherwise practical woman talk for hours with her long distance boyfriend and the obvious love between them, I get a warm fuzzy feeling as well. But these are few and far between.
Somehow, over time, not much surprises me. And that's not a good sign.
I want to give the starry-eyed me a chance. Because life was much more fun then. And while I am scared of getting hurt, I guess I am much more scared of never getting hurt again.