When Dylan and I started talking about marriage with the people closest to us, we were asked a lot of questions, and we didn’t take our decision lightly. One of the hardest things I heard was when someone said, “I think you’re romanticizing this too much.” I was defensive at the time. No, I was taking it seriously! But now, five months later, sitting on my bed with the window open, basking in sunlight after a long winter and what feels like an endless pandemic, I hear that comment in a different light. They were right; I was romanticizing it. And I don’t apologize for that.

However, I disagree that there’s such a thing as “too much” when it comes to romanticizing your life. For as long as I can remember, my life has been shaped by being told I’m “too much.” I’ve always had big dreams—desires to change what I could, speak out for those who can’t, express myself in ways that might be considered “weird.” And yes, this has been a lot for some people, and it’s been a lot for me too. But I’m done letting that voice tell me, or anyone else, that it’s too much. I’m just a person, ever-evolving and figuring it out, just like everyone else. Not too much, not too little—just me.

I want to romanticize my life. Why is it that we can consume romantic movies, books, music, and art, yet it’s considered childish to chase that kind of passion for our own lives? No, I refuse to believe that. I want to pursue wild dreams, get uncomfortable, marry young, and graduate college on my timeline. I want a cozy house with candles always burning and plants everywhere. I want my diet and exercise to focus on health and joy, not body image. I want to fall in love with the world, the people in it, and myself.

I know “real life” will sometimes interrupt the romance—bills will need to be paid, and responsibilities will always exist. Life will happen, whether I’m ready for it or not. But I’m choosing to focus on dreams, not fears. I will romanticize my life. I will see the sunbeams streaming through the window, shining over the couch my husband sits on, with a vanilla bean-scented candle burning, Hozier playing in the background, and spaghetti boiling as the most romantic moment of my life. Until the next one comes, of course.