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What It's Like To Drown In The Millennial Age

I'm not interested in your half-assed attempt at making small talk, nor am I the girl you'll ever see and think, "yeah, she's the one."

I would not want to live my life any other way. Let me say that again- I would NOT want to live my life any other way.

I've never wanted to be the girl who boys fall in love with at first sight because the ends of my hair curl perfectly at the tops of my shoulders or because I'm always sporting some trendy little t-shirt and skirt combo with wedged boots that let me see the world from just a couple inches higher than what my natural being has provided me.

Growing up in a generation that takes things for what they are at face value is the scariest, most sickening, infuriating thing for someone like me. All because I've discovered I have one and only one genuine dream.

To dive as deeply into the ocean of humanity as possible. To go beyond the surface of beautiful eyes and people who pretend everything is always good. To stumble over heartbreaks, failures, gaping holes in communication and the bitter taste of tears that fall to cold pillows instead of into loving arms. I want nothing more than to take the biggest deep breath in that my lungs can stand, and swim to the corners and edges that the sun can't manage to hit- all in search of intention, meaning, reason, and everything that's just a little bit too heavy for anybody to bring back up onto land after they've been pushed overboard by the intensity of life itself.

But I'm stuck in 2017. Drowning in the millennial age mentality that demands instant gratification. Continuously being shoved ruthlessly into an age that doesn't give a damn about what people have to offer unless they live up to an unrealistic standard of what beauty is.

So much of that toxic water has been pushed so far down my throat. If it weren't for the people in my life who have rescued me time and time again with their lifeboat-hearts, and made me sit with them for hours attempting to cough all of it up out of me, I wouldn't be here.

That's what life is. Rocky waters and stormy seas. Sometimes you drown. Sometimes you breathe.

I'll probably never ask you about the weather. Partly because we're on the same boat, but mostly because I don't care. At all. That's not what life's about.

I don't just want a "test-the-water-with-your-toes" kind of life.

I don't want anyone to have to feel pretty enough or worry about having to prove their worth. I don't crave perfectly sun-kissed skin or angel kisses. I want sunburns and a thirst for the finer things. I want to know your story.

Tell me about the things you love and the things you fear. Not because I'm in search of common ground or because I'll be able to tell you that you have no reason to be afraid, but because I want to be the lifeboat that makes you cough up all the toxic water the world has pushed into you. I want to be the one who beats at your chest and forces you to spit up all the bitterness and salt that's been weighing you down and making you feel like it's already too late.

Tell me all about the person who told you that they loved you and then left you like none of it mattered. Tell me about the time that person left you on "read" at 2 a.m. when you were so tired you almost didn't have the energy to even let it hurt you. Even if you cry. Even if it tears you apart. I'd rather stay awake the whole night with you, as you fight back against the agony that could swallow you whole, than get a good night of sleep of my own.

If you think I won't hold your hair when you're throwing up drunk in the bathroom, you are wrong in the best way. And always know that up to now, you've survived 100% of your worst days.

Suffering isn't beautiful or poetic, but it's not all hell. I've been where you are now. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but this life isn't always white sand between your toes, sparkling water and a shining sun.
Photo credit: Randy Tobias

Apologize when you say the wrong thing and swallow your pride when you know losing someone would be worse than losing an argument with them. Don't be afraid to wear makeup but understand that it doesn't change the person that you are. Let awkward silences happen. Boldly love people. Hold someone's hand when they're weak and don't say anything until they do. Just let human connection speak. In the heat of the moment, let your fiery temper set your soul to flames that burn so hot you'll wish your heart was cold as ice. Plant yourself in the soil of this world and grow. Just. Do it.

Dive in. What's the worst that could happen?
Oh yeah, you could learn something. 

Just jump already.
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Note from the author: 
In my recent years as a blogger/poet/dreamer and my life as a human being, people have actually come up to me and asked me if I'm okay because a lot of the metaphors and symbolism I use in my writing are dark and are often associated with things that are insanely uncomfortable to talk about. 

Sex, alcohol, abuse, and even death. 

People have reached out to me with concern because they know I read books about these topics and spend a lot of my time alone, studying and writing about things that are socially taboo. Several weeks out from the beginning of my senior year of high school, when I openly admitted to feeling depressed and questioning the legitimacy of my existence entirely, I was sent to therapy sessions three times a week for a total of about two months. 

I won't say the therapy was worthless, but it did make me angry. I've always known that I just simply don't belong in the generation that I'm a part of. But it's not like I have any control over that, so in the moments that hit me hard with reminders that I'm so irreversibly different and probably will never quite fit in, I turn to writing. 

The "lifeboat-hearts," I mention in this post are the few people I've been blessed with having come across. In the weirdest, most abstract ways, I've met a very small number of people who think like me and feel the same way as I do. I call them "lifeboat-hearts," because they are the people I turn to when I feel like I'm drowning. 

As little as a few weeks ago, I was reported for being too open with my emotions and expressing too many of my intimate feelings publicly. It was then that I decided not to express myself any less, but more. I stopped censoring my writing and stopped saying sorry for expressing how I feel. 

I will continue to not be sorry for it. 
I will continue to swim into the depths of humanity, in search of all the things the millennial age has thrown carelessly into the most dangerous parts of the life-ocean. 

And a note to the millennials: you can't find sunken treasure if you just keep coasting on the surface. 

Trust me. 
- from someone who has been, and always is, brave enough to dive in head first












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