A romantic gesture. We’re splitting hairs here. Had a good cry the other day and broke down. Last time I did this, I took a walk. Sometimes I lose myself in a character I created. A routine that I become. For hours, I’m watching the world through the eyes of a some teenager sitting on the beach, his nose bloodied from a fight that ensued the night before, watching teenage girls jogging by while he ponders the rising sun and what this life means. And this teenager will never grow up to be me, because I was never this teenager. Maybe I wished life was a bit more like a teen romantic comedy where it all sews together in the end. Or maybe, my…