When we're growing up they teach us many things: if a boy hits you he likes you, don't cut your hair by yourself, one day you'll meet a wonderful man and you'll have your happy ending.
Every movie we watch, every story that is told to us teaches us to wait for this... the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception that conferms the rule, but sometimes we are so concentrated on the research of that happy ending that we can't interpret signals, to recognize who wants us and who doesn't want us, who will stay with who will leave. And maybe in that happy ending isn't included a wonderful man, maybe you are, alone, to put the pieces back together and to start over again... to free yourself from waiting that something better should come your way. Maybe the happy ending is only... going ahead. Or maybe the happy ending is knowing that in spite of the phone calls you didn't receive and the heart breaks, in spite of all the spectacles and the misunderstood signals, in spite of the cries and the embarrassment... I never ever lost hope.