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Modern Love

March 15, 2017

Photo by Dillon Ivory featuring Trinity Bree for Mad Sounds Magazine Issue 21 

 

Romance is something I strongly endorse and even I don’t know how well that’s going anymore. Contemplating on my own goofy love life and observing evidence in others, I recognize that love has become a dying art. So here is my post-Valentine's Day pick up 52 (pieces of a broken heart) card game to myself; so many thoughts deserving some sort of a composed rant.

 

I pay my respects to the sweet school dances that my folks still reminisce on. All the milkshake and drive-in dates. Finding some lookout point and end up not doing much looking at all. Continuously falling for the bad boy reputation (we all have our moments). But finding the gentleman that will come up to your front doorsteps to greet you and the ones that open the door on your side of the car. Classic (but not completely old fashioned) romantic gestures and a genuine concept of so.

 

If I had a dream, it was woken up in contemporary déjà vu, disturbing all I had built up for love and romance as a whole.

 

I don’t claim any statistics but I think it's safe to conclude we all have a mutual understanding on how rapidly technology can be misunderstood in a relationship. Netflix and Chill is now a casual date that praises and relies on infatuation. We are fighting over the bill for dinner because it's 2017 and it works that way. Apparently we have no labels or conversations (say- becoming exclusive) anymore because passively we like to confuse one another. Conversations awkwardly squished into a text message, forgetting the charming words that used to roll off the tongue so easily. Articulating something that should mean so much over so little.

 

I am in no place to comment or judge on those power couples that are so radiantly in love. You guys are doing something right. To describe modern love so negatively reflects back onto me as a person. Maybe I just think it’s too hard to find a genuine love. In all honesty, I’m overwhelmed and embarrassed for what the majority and future holds. I sit here with my glass half empty with other empty eyes that seem to be scrolling past a quality of life, a quality of love.

 

At the end of the day, the world is still an ever-changing sphere that spins in a vast space. To unjustly compare, this perspective is tailored to a 16-year-old girl’s idea of it all. It seems as if I’m only good at being young. One day I will understand in theory that I might not be able to change much of anything from just merely existing in the modern love culture.

 

But as for myself (and whatever rock n roll dream boy comes my way), I blatantly choose for our love to grow up well. And may it age like wine.

 

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