Playing with fire.

If you didn't already know, I'm a huge movie lover. Honestly, who isn't? My favorite films are the mood lifters with glorious endings that make your heart swell… You know, the ones with strong female characters, handsome witty men, and yes, some sort of love story. (Go ahead, call me a typical girl. I'll get over it.) Growing up, it was movies like these that shaped my [mis]understanding of how life and love should be: sometimes tragic, other times hilarious, but always beautiful. And of course, appealing to the senses, with messages that ring in favor of inner desire over truth.

It's starting to sink in, however, that life is not at all like a feel-good movie, and Lord knows I'm no heroine. I fail to find happiness in "harmless" impulsivity, and I rarely gain a sense of freedom from acting on a whim. Regardless of how I'm feeling, I always feel worse after crossing boundaries that disguise themselves as opportunities. No matter how good the intentions, some things simply don't sit well with me. And they shouldn't.

In the movies, basing important decisions on strong emotions is usually encouraged—rewarded, even. But in real life, it's like playing with fire. People always gets hurt in the end.

Photo from The Notebook by New Line Cinema.