I can honestly say I have spent my entire life searching for romantic love in a way that I thought for a very long time was adorable and that I now see as heartbreakingly sad. I’m sure it’s closer to the truth to say it’s in between the two, but maybe because I’ve lived it and know where it comes from, it seems mostly like the latter. That intense Anne of Green Gables romanticism, bursting from every cell in my body, came from a similar place in me as it did in Anne: a tragic backstory and a desperate need to belong to someone.
