A reflection.

We grow up believing the world is soon going to make sense. It never does. We grow up searching for the right place, the right time. It never comes. Then we realise that it never will and it's too late. It isn't. 

We sit in parks, coffee shops, bars, making memories with friends we love. Philia: the highest form of love, shared between friends. Yet, we still get caught up in finding love? Finding the one? Can't we appreciate this unconditional love, this philia, as much as romantic love? 

Then, after all that, we realise we just want to be loved, not give love. Giving love requires commitment; and our generation seems to have claimed commitment issues as a personality trait. Proud of the reprocussions of our trauma.

We apply pressure to our lives in the hopes of being percieved as carefree. We care so much to not care. Why are we fighting human nature? 

 Why is being sad a cool thing today? Why do we try to make memories with substances that make us forget? Is this not ironic in itself?

 Now this isn't a blog with any answers. I'm 19, I have no idea. This is a post of reflection, not rehabilitation. Of questions that probably don't even have answers. A post of noticing things within yourself as well as everyone else.

 Take time to breathe. Take time to heal. Take time to love and to care. Take time to think and process your thoughts. Allow it.