At times, I look at my generation with awe and pride. I wonder at the way we have learned to harness technology to improve the world. I appreciate the efforts we have made to become more inclusive. I commend the way we have adapted to an ever-changing, competitive professional landscape with more tenacity than ever before. But, honestly, most of the time, I just really hate my generation.
Hate is a strong word. It is not one I use lightly and I understand the repercussions of it. Nonetheless, love is an equally strong word, one which I have underestimated for far too long. In preparation to write this post, I took a trip down memory lane to re-read some of my old articles like “Dating in High School” and “What Does it Mean to Love”. Overall, it reminded me of how naïve I once was. I loved the idea of love because I had never fully allowed myself to become imprisoned in its clutches. I viewed love exactly as I saw it around me — silent and sweet, hiding in the cracks of everyday life. I believed in love because of the way my dad sometimes held my mom’s hand as we walked back to the car after dinner. I believed in the kind of love stories my brother and his girlfriend had; growing up together, sharing ice cream as teenagers, and one day getting married. I was enamored by the kind of love I read about in books and watched in movies. I wrote poems about love, and letters to boys who would never read them, and songs about fictional characters I hoped would one day exist in my own story.
As I continue to grow up, the breaches in my concept of love are beginning to widen. This is not to say that I no longer believe in love, because I do and always will, it is rather to say that I understand where my generation excels and where we fall short. Time and time again, I am disappointed by some perpetual quest to find this thing I call love. Not just disappointed for myself, but for everyone around me that I already hold so close to my heart. I am exhausted seeing my friends have the color drained from their bright faces because their situationship ghosted them after months of feigning connection. I hate seeing the boy I looked at as so strong and kind crying because he was told he was the only one when he wasn’t. I am crushed learning that I was just another notch on someone’s belt. The idea of commitment and loyalty is so foreign to our generation that it makes me wonder if there is hope for a group of people chronically devoid of deep emotional connection.
From what I have been told, one day my generation will grow up and finally decide it is time for them to get serious about love. But, to me, love is no longer a flighty notion to daydream about in my free time. It is a four letter word that I am serious about today, right now. I don’t believe it is something that can be built overnight when I finally decide to peel back the skin of a body I have viewed as a shell for too long. If I love you, it is whole-heartedly. As of now, I love my family. I love my dog. I love my roommates, and best friends, and some days I love myself a little more than others. For years, I wondered when I would find my person. I clung to every little opportunity that brushed my shoulder like it was my soulmate. Nonetheless, there is nothing simple about soulmates. It is easy to find a pretty face or a nice body, but nowadays especially, it is difficult to find someone who uses the word love as verb rather than a contingency.
As we approach another month of love, I can’t wait to see the teddy bears holding hands along the shelves of grocery stores. I look forward to ending my night with a Hershey’s kiss and an episode of Gilmore Girls, watching Jess and Rory fall in love for the third time. No matter what, I am a hopeless romantic. I find joy in the thought that somewhere out there is pure, unconditional connection. I know it is waiting somewhere and that patience is a virtue just as is gratitude, loyalty, and of course… love.
Your worth is not defined by how many people choose you to add to their list of non-commitments. It is defined by the commitment of respect you make to yourself, knowing that good things can still come to those who have stumbled into an illusion of love before, one day, finding the real thing.
Happy February
“Maybe we feel empty because we leave pieces of ourselves in everything we used to love.”
– r.m. drake
chocolate and politics 