Fuck Nonchalant - Give me the Wildfire

A declaration against emotional indifference

FUCK NONCHALANT. GIVE ME THE WILDFIRE.

A love letter to feeling deeply, choosing openly, and refusing to play dead.

By Love Me Stone

I've been thinking about this all weekend.

Why is everyone trying so hard to be nonchalant? I fucking hate these buzz words that everyone seems to latch on to.

I understand the conversation around having a regulated nervous system. I actually agree with a lot of it. We should know how to soothe ourselves. We shouldn't expect another person to carry the weight of our emotions.

But somewhere along the way, we misunderstood the assignment.

Where did all the feelings go?

When did being emotionally healthy become synonymous with pretending you don't care?

We were meant to feel things.

To get butterflies. To be excited. To miss people. To grin at our phones. To love with abandon.

Not every feeling needs to be suppressed just because it's intense.

There's nothing that turns me off faster than someone who seems completely indifferent. If you don't feel a connection, beautiful. Say it. Let both people move on. There's something deeply respectful about clarity.

But this strange dance we've all agreed to?

Waiting three hours to text back.

Pretending we're less interested than we are.

Acting like whoever cares the least somehow wins.

It's exhausting.

And the funny thing is, I think a lot of people are sitting at home waiting for the exact same text.

No one wants to look eager. So no one reaches out. Attraction dies in silence.

Not because it wasn't there, but because neither person wanted to risk looking like they cared more.

Maybe this is an unpopular opinion,

but I'd rather look like a fool.

I'd rather tell someone I enjoy spending time with them. I'd rather send the text. I'd rather risk rejection than spend my life wondering what would've happened if both of us had been a little braver.

People always say

“Don't do too much.”

I disagree.

If we're feeling the same thing?

Do too much.

Call me.

Kiss me in the kitchen.

Tell me you couldn't stop thinking about me.

Reach for my hand.

I eat that shit up.

That's where the spark begins. Two people throwing kindling onto the same fire instead of standing on opposite sides pretending they don't notice the smoke.

They lean in without thinking. Their eyes find each other across a room. They can't wait to get home. They keep reaching for one another. It's electric.

Maybe the goal isn't to become so regulated that nothing moves us.

Maybe the goal is to be steady enough that we can feel everything without being afraid of it.

I'd rather love a little too openly

than spend my whole life playing dead just to look unbothered.

What's the worst that can happen?

You love someone for a season instead of a lifetime?

That's the strange bargain we make just by being alive. Everything ends eventually.

Even if you're lucky enough to spend fifty years beside the same person, one day one of you will have to learn how to live without the other.

Loss isn't something we avoid by loving less.

It's the price we pay for loving at all.

So isn't it better to love every chance you get than to let people pass quietly through your life because you were too afraid to care?

Maybe that's the romantic in me.

I've made peace with that.

We're here to be moved

By work that lights us up.

By places that make us feel small.

By conversations that change us.

By meals that linger.

By music that cracks something open inside us.

By people. Especially by people.

Yes, find your passion. Build the business. Travel the world. Chase the impossible thing that keeps calling your name.

But isn't it sweeter when someone is waiting on the sidelines, cheering so loudly you can hear them over your own doubts?

Someone to come home to. Someone to explore the world with. Someone who looks at you as though they can't quite believe they get to know you.

I think that's one of life's greatest privileges.

I don't need to stand in front of your dreams.

I'll gladly take a seat in the front row.

Go build the thing.

Run.

Fly.

Become everything you've imagined.

Just come home and tell me about it.

Let me celebrate every small victory with you. Let me be one of the thoughts that crosses your mind when something wonderful happens. I'll do the same for you.

I don't want a love that asks us to become smaller. I want one that gives us somewhere safe to become bigger.

It's what I hope for my children, too.

I don't care what career they choose. I don't care if they get married or have children.

If one day they look me in the eyes and tell me they're genuinely happy, I'll know they've done well.

I want them to love themselves. I want them to be loved by people who tell them the truth, who cheer the loudest when they succeed, who steady them when they stumble, and who gently push them toward the life they're capable of living.

Maybe that's all love has ever been.

Not finding someone who keeps you from living. Finding someone who reminds you to.

Live slowly. Love deeply. Feel everything.