I Think I Romanticise Potential More Than Reality

I’ve realised I rarely fall in love with what’s actually in front of me.

Not just people. Everything.

Careers. Friendships. Relationships. Versions of myself. Creative projects I’ve barely started. Entire futures I’ve built in my head before they’ve even happened.

I think I romanticise potential more than reality.

And honestly, sometimes it’s beautiful.

But there’s another side to it too.

When you romanticise potential, you start emotionally investing in things before they’ve even become real. You become attached to what something could be instead of what it actually is.

A mediocre opportunity becomes, “Maybe this changes everything.”

A random phase becomes, “Maybe this is who I’m becoming.”

Sometimes I think I mourn possibilities more than realities.

Not because something was amazing, but because I could see the version of it that might have been.

After high school, I was so convinced I was going to become an occupational therapist. I’d already romanticised the entire future attached to it; studying overseas, moving away, becoming this independent, accomplished version of myself.

Then I didn’t get into the course.

And I think that was one of the first times I realised how deeply I attach myself to possibilities. Because I wasn’t just upset about the course. I was mourning an entire life I’d already built in my head.

And I don’t even think romanticising life is inherently bad. It’s what makes ordinary moments feel meaningful. It inspires me to write.

But there’s a fine line between appreciating beauty and abandoning reality for fantasy.

Because potential is comforting. Potential is perfect. Potential hasn’t had the chance to disappoint you yet.

Reality is messier.

Reality is unfinished projects, uncertainty, ordinary days, and people who aren’t always who you imagined them to be.

And maybe growing up is learning there’s still beauty in that too.

I’ve spoken about this pretty positively so far, but I’ll be honest, the fallout from these expectations can be hell, especially when it comes to people.

I get attached to what something could’ve been and struggle to accept what it actually was.

And the worst part is that other people usually see it before I do.

The second I mention a situation, everyone suddenly becomes an expert. And most of the time, they’re right.

But when you constantly see the best in people, harsh truths feel impossible to accept. I know I defend people long after reality starts correcting me.

“It’s fine, they’re probably just busy.”

“No, you don’t get it.”

“It’ll work out.”

And maybe I’m not even trying to convince other people. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself.

Because once I see potential in someone, I cling to it. I hold onto the version of them I created in my head long after reality stops supporting it.

Maybe that’s the real issue with romanticising potential. It keeps you emotionally attached to things that don’t fully exist.

Not reality. Not facts. Just possibilities.

And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever fully stop doing it.

I’ll probably always be the kind of person who turns random nights into core memories and reads too deeply into tiny moments.

But I think I’m slowly learning there’s a difference between being hopeful and refusing to see reality.

Potential can make life feel magical.

But sometimes reality is trying to hand you an answer while you’re still rewriting the question.

So maybe the goal isn’t to stop romanticising life entirely.

Maybe it’s just learning when to let reality speak for itself.

Sez