Expectations

I'm holding onto something unsure. I'm betting my heart on a situation that leads to a hundred possibilities and a million doubts.
Expect the worst yet hope for the best, they say. To play safe is the most logical option. But the heart is a funny thing. It sees all but reason. It clings to the ever faint glimmer of hope. Its naivete knows no bounds. Made of pure and raw emotion, it sees, hears and feels nothing but what it so desires.
Why do we keep believing the impossible despite the disappointment and pain that come our way? Why do we remain idealistic, when in fact the time calls for cynicism?
While others turn to bitterness, I stubbornly will a harvest, deeply rooted to the belief that love is permanent. Like all other earthly things, love can never be an assurance. But what else to do but trust and bravely keep on believing?
Some view love as a weakness. How could it be so when it takes all of one's courage and daring to give in, let go, and fall in love?
Someday, love may disappear. Maybe it won't. But I keep on loving without hesitation. In time, when I face a conclusion, I will have no regrets. I embraced love in all its glory.
I will heal. I will return wiser and stronger; more worthy of loving, and being loved in return. I will have loved and lost, but be sure that I will love again, better than before.