Complete?

Years ago I went for a motorcycle ride with a friend in Toronto. I was told to relax my body and turn with the bike. The curves were smooth as silk, cool wind blowing in my face and in my hair. For a moment I closed my eyes thinking it would be just fine if I died then and there. I told Logan about it, and he said, 'You know Vivi, you are a romantic person'. I denied it straight because I felt nowadays being romantic was the same as being weak.
Last weekend when I was reading a third class romantic story online I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't about the plots or the 'tear gas' like words. I knew I was crying my own tears in other people's stories. Suddenly I realized that I was this hopelessly romantic person and I had always been. It was depressing. Underneath all the sarcasm, cynicism, and bitterness, this little unrealistic flame has managed to survive and refused to die after all these years. The sudden sorrow was from realizing that it was too late, and I would never find what I had been looking for, never! The ending of the story was written long time ago. We can't go back anymore.
Look around, there are many people who seem happy. They go to work, play games, get married, buy a house, make babies, on and on, day in and day out. Compromise is nothing new. Why is that so hard for some people to completely give in to life? Why is that one moment you feel you are on top of all games, and another moment when you walk in a busy intersection suddenly you feel you've forgotten something, something very important, and you don't know what it is.
I wonder how it feels like to be complete, and I am not sure what has been missing.