when sylvia plath wrote ‘please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. there are times when i will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand’ I felt that
@arunixia POSTED A MINECRAFT VIDEO AND I DIDN’T GET A NOTIFICATION?! WATCH THIS GOAT PLAY THE FINEST BLOCK GAME MADE TO DATE. (Sorry minesweeper :c )
https://t.co/D5fNqHKe5r
We live in an age where love has lost its gravity, and family has lost its sanctity.
Relationships no longer grow roots, they just orbit convenience. People walk away not because love is gone, but because patience is.
Once, to love meant to build, a home, a memory, a lineage. Now it’s an experiment in comfort. We no longer fight for meaning; we negotiate our exits. The sacred idea of family, of shared struggle, shared bread, and shared silence has become almost foreign.
We used to believe that love was a place where we stayed, even when it rained. Now, it’s a performance of happiness that vanishes at the first storm.
Commitment feels outdated, loyalty feels heavy, and solitude has been rebranded as freedom.
The real tragedy isn’t that someone made a single pancake and didn’t offer it, it’s that we live in a time where no one cooks for two anymore.
We’ve forgotten that love is work. That family isn’t a feeling, it’s a decision renewed every day to stay, to care, to build.
Maybe that’s the crisis of our century: not the loss of love, but the loss of endurance. Not the death of family, but its quiet fading replaced by fleeting desires dressed as freedom.