There are romantics trapped in the era of millennials. We’re trapped in an era where they’ve intertwined the roots of monogamy with fear. A generation where true emotion cannot be expressed or it is labeled as obsession or insanity.

Romanticism is a lost art relabeled as a product of “clinginess”. Even the physical contact of subtle emotional ticks are hardly known as anything other than a cry for attention. This generation has cursed itself against the possibilities of commitment. Millennials have grounded the lore of commitment in the death of our youth and the murder of your freedom. As if having another person along for the adventure is an impossibility.

Somehow, they have rewired the human heart to believe that adventure and love in their duality is a paradox who’s juxtaposition has no place in reality. Then as a causality, the complaints of being “forever alone” as they isolate themselves in a crowd and reject those who object that love can only be fiction in this age.

Eject those from their lives that believe romance did not die with this generations decaying grasp of chivalry. Or accept those that grow with the idea of feminism but misconstrue the concept of wanting a partner for needing a man. As we grow strong this generation grows apart as they remember their independence, but forget that sometimes they need to think with their hearts.

How do you grow up on these tales of love portrayed in our literature, in our media and on every screen, but you treat it just as such? Never letting it enter your life, as if it was meant to remain a dream and not inspired by something real. So I guess I’m one of those romantics trapped in this generation. Shackled by the fear and purposeful perpetual dissolution of love in order to avoid commitment or the proverbial “loss of freedom”. We’re all just hopeless wanderers until someone breaks the chain of this era we’re trapped in.