I’m a hopeless romantic; not the cheesy, all red, letters-in-blood type but the stand-in-my-backyard-while-holding-a-boombox-above-your-head-playing-my-favorite-song type of romantic. But despite my romantic disposition, there’s one thing I’ve learnt to be completely objective about: Loss. I’ve somehow become the person who knows people are going to die, who knows that everyday all over the world children are losing their parents and parents are losing their children and there’s nothing anyone can do about it because that is the circle of life. I’ve become the person who has come to the realization that the only thing that is pre-ordained and cannot be changed, is the expiration date stamped on our souls. Romanticism doesn’t have to be all about stars. It should be about nostalgia, reminiscence and of course romance – the pure, non-cheesy kind. It should never be about loss, because that only casts a shadow on everything else that might otherwise be beautiful. Loss is inevitable, and us, humans, should learn to stop challenging The Inevitable, if only to avoid undue heartache.