At times I think about Madame Bovary, and wonder if like her, I too have been persuaded by a diet of romantic literature into believing in hopeless fantasies. Sometimes I catch myself waiting expectantly for a partner to magically appear and initiate me into the turbulent emotions, feverish delirium and rapturous reveries of a committed love. Needless to say, Disenchantment and I have become very good friends.
Just as I'm about to crown Love as the greatest swindle,
Just as I resign to dine forever on counterfeit feelings,
I look at mum and dad, and hope again.
Cupid can and will perfect his aim.
Cupid can and will perfect his aim.
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