A Love Letter to Feeling
We’re living in the golden age of the shrug.
Caring? Cringe. Sincerity? Embarrassing. Vulnerability? God forbid.
The vibe? Effortless detachment with a hint of curated aesthetic depression.
You know the drill:
Say “lol” so your feelings don’t sound too real.
Say “idk” so no one expects a real opinion.
Make the caption deadpan enough to not seem like you’re trying.
God forbid anyone knows you’re excited about something.
We’ve mastered the art of saying nothing while pretending it’s a statement.
Even joy comes with a filter. Even love is soft-launched.
Everything’s a performance of “I could care, but I don’t. But maybe I do. But whatever.”
We leave people on read like it’s emotional chess.
We post like it’s a brand strategy.
We talk like every sentence could be screenshot, dissected, used against us.
We’ve made connection conditional: be chill, be ironic, be distant, but never be too much.
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And for what?
To seem unbothered? To win some imaginary game where the prize is being the least emotionally available person in the room?
The truth is: we’re tired.
Tired of hiding how much we actually care.
Tired of performing indifference like it’s our job.
Tired of pretending that everything’s mid when really, we’re dying to feel something all the way through.
So here’s the plot twist: I care.
Loudly. Messily. On purpose. With zero disclaimers.
I’ll reply fast. I’ll wear what makes me feel good, not what fits an aesthetic.
I’ll love things without needing to explain them. I’ll say “I miss you” without adding “lmao.”
I’ll feel deeply, fully — because numbing out is not the flex we think it is.
You can keep your cool. I’m choosing real.
Because no one remembers the people who didn’t care
