Am I really that hopeless?

It was pointed out to me that regardless of a recent entry, I have (in fact) toned down my language in subsequent posts. It was not a conscious effort. I revel in rebellion and try to always speak my mind. However, I have a soft spot in my heart for a particular patriarch. Out of love and respect, I can’t help but act differently around this man. In his eyes, I’m still his little girl, which is fine with me. He once referred to me as his “hopeless romantic” and that has always stuck with me. I believe to a point that I am just that. Hopeless and idyllic. Anyway, maybe it’s difficult for him to view me through my own eyes, or to see the unedited version of myself. I never really thought of that until now. It’s difficult to write a journal though, and not be one’s self. I hope his vision of the little girl who once swung from tree limbs upside down, and sat in his lap to be comforted by the sound of his voice isn’t tarnished. I’m all grown up now and have established my own opinions and personality. But, a part of me will always remain that little girl.