Love stories are all I can seem to find. They are everywhere. Like an endless ocean of love, loss, perseverance, fear, excitement, love... and Im alone on a solitary island, unable to swim. Its a small world, bigger than you can ever imagine and yet small enough to hold in palm your hand. Heart strings drift with the tides, tugged along by the endless pull of the moon of hearts. A moon that is never full for long and yet always returns. A never ending cycle of rapid pulses and frantic butterflies, sinking stomaches and aching chests. Disappointment tinges the air before a breeze of tenderness chases it away. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea, but I cant swim.