I wonder, when it comes to things like “love” and relationships, if people have always been so cold. Is it something my generation has learned from our parents? Is it our ability to use social media to point out every little problem? Or are we really just so void of this feeling?
Growing up, friends would say things like, “Parents shouldn’t get divorced. They should stay together for the kids. They should work it out for their children.” But then these same kids grow up and realise that our parents are people, and we too learn how complicated relationships can be.
I wonder a lot if my generation is full of people like me. Someone whose never seen a good happy relationship. On one hand you have your family. You witnessed the sour behaviour of your parents. You’ve seen the dark side of getting remarried. Then on the other hand you have your friends. Your friends who always want to be in love, but all these relationships have secrets and lies. So what’s the point in that?
So my generation does this really weird thing. We care. But just enough. Or we don’t care at all. We’re really good at using each other. Because you have people like me who want to chase away everyone’s problems. And you have the people I gravitate most to. The people who need someone to hear them, but don’t want to hear you in return. With these two sides, we can come together so easily and balance each other out. Both hurting in our own unique ways.
We crave for someone to love us despite our fucked up minds and broken hearts, but God forbid someone actually do that. Because once someone cares too much, it’s time to cut ties. We really like the idea of a forever. But we know that really there isn’t such a thing.
Maybe we have this fantasy complex. That there could be a person who would never lie or cheat. But I also think we have no idea what we want. You can’t be too nice and you can’t be too mean. But sometimes you should be too mean. Other times you should be too nice. There’s no pleasing us. Even if you think you’re pleasing someone, they’re complaining about you to someone else.
So we meet one another. Something clicks. I listen to your problems. I tell you enough to think you know me well, even though we haven’t touched the surface. We live our lives separately. You call when you need a friend. Well, we call each other friends… But truthfully we never were. And after some time, we part ways and slowly drift and become painful memories of another goodbye. Another nothing.
Someone said to me, “if we’re still alone when we’re 40, let’s just settle with each other.” And actually… I’ve heard others with this plan.
Because all we want is someone who will hold us at night and keep us warm from the cold places in our hearts.
You’re not special to me. You’re special enough. But never really special.