Melissa Mariné Baltazar Amézquita

is 7633 days old and for the first time ever in her life will admit she is an endless, hopeless romantic and is in love.
There's no way around it. I might not always remember, I might not always have it present but it is the truth.
I'm trying to think where can I trace this back to...is it my parent's drama-filled, Romeo and Juliet type of romance or can it go further back? is it my grandma's lullabies or her insatiable faith, her old movies or cooking...there's just a sense of being at home that I trace back to this.
Is it my kindergarten crushes? Is it just the media with its chick-flicks that has led me to believe this to be true? I doubt it though, I believe because it's happened to me...not once but many times, in many different names, eyes, hands and languages and every time I still feel like it's the only time, like before this there was nothing else,

I'm surprised how after having finished reading Freud and Nietzsche I can be thinking of this things,
oh what a phone call can do,