becoming a capital-r-Romantic.

what the poets might have gotten right.

My best friend often describes me as a capital-r-Romantic. She is not alluding to my extensive dating history. Or entanglements with the opposite sex. Instead, a cheeky title bestowed to me, in reference to the turn of the century philosophical movement. Romanticism, with a capital R.

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Key features of Romanticism: a deep appreciation for the beauty of nature, an exaltation of emotion over reason, and a focus on the individual and their subjective experiences.¹

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The inception of my own Romantics, can be traced back to my teenage years. It was the early 2000’s. A economy on the verge of recession. I was in Catholic school, with an education of moral purity and regulation. Girls squirming crosslegged in uniform skirts. Morning prayers of repentance. Mathematics and science over unregulated creativity. My eyes were quick to notice the attempts to stifle our individuality. Sexual impulses and emotional intensity were meant to be repressed-a harrowing opposition of what it meant to be a thirteen year old girl. And I unconsciously, due to my environment, was ushering in a school of thought that was created centuries ago. My response to rigid reason and order, was to feel more, ask more and live more—

And we all know, a young woman is a source of unbridled freedom until authority tries to shut her up.

Most memories of my youth are filled with longing. Head in the clouds and bare feet planted in the California dirt. Dreaming up faraway places, while also being sentimental for the present. I felt things so deeply. And wonder when others would wake up, and feel so strongly too. I only had one life! It was meant to be lived to the fullest! But, there was a programming inside of me that quietly hid this away. And through high school, my surroundings did not fit the human I was becoming. Whenever I studied to get straight A’s, or strived for sterile perfectionism, I had a pit in my stomach. Anxiety. And so noted, by my beloved peer, this relentlessly yearning has never left me. I was a capital-r-Romantic. I just didn't know it yet.

I wanted to fall in love.
And get my heart devastatingly destroyed.

I wanted to be on stage under the heat of lights.
And yet be anonymous with all my melancholic secrets.

I wanted to laugh myself to tears.
And cry in awe over the wonders of nature.

I wanted to witness the ruins of the ancient Romans.
And make friends with the towering redwood trees.

I wanted my imagination to be be free.
And my freedom to be the essence of my expression.

I wish I had listened to my intuition more in my twenties. The poets were right about that. I was made to believe that I should follow my head. Often denying the matters of my soul to seek safety. I had plenty of romance during this decade. But how much of it was I manufacturing? Attempting to control people and situations, instead of allowing them to natural waxing and waning to occur. I commodified all my hobbies, in order to make them financially viable. I remained in a stable relationship despite tiny rumblings that questioned the choice. (I explore the pros and cons of romanticizing your life here). Why didn’t I make more of a mess? Did I truly waste my time? But a true Romantic finds the goodness, finds the light, even in the darkness of hours. The ability to transcend the everyday into poetics- Cue up Lana Del Ray.

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‘But I do feel strange-almost unearthly. I’ll never get used to being alive. It’s a mystery. Always startled to find I’ve survived.’²

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It is odd to lean into Romanticism during our modern times. Technology gradually pushing humans away from their own humanity; Doom scrolling into numbness, AI resulting in a lack of individual thinking. Gender identity being diluted to a strict binary. Where there is disregard for the natural as our government continues to ignore the impending climate disaster. It’s exhausting. And yet, maybe that makes our world ripe for this new era?

I don’t feel completely qualified to analyze the nuances of our political landscape, but I do know, that empathy and questioning appears to be rebellious. And as I dive deeper into my own research, capital-r-Romantics are not only poetic but quite political.

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The present, it is but a speck

In that eternal time,

In which my lost hopes find a home,

My spirit knows its clime.³

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I hold a sense of pride with this title. It doesn’t make me delusional, it makes me brave. God forbid, I am too emotional! Or people know I care! Numbing out isn’t cool. Non-conformity arrives, when you choose to see the world not in black and white but in the visceral hues of all of its complexities.

Weirdly, I feel closer to my teenage self. Where it all begun. The baby Romantic. I was afraid of my own desires in my twenties. But now, my biggest fear, is to live in detachment. I want my hands to be dirty. And my story to be very much lived-

1. Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. "Romanticism". Encyclopedia Britannica, 16 Dec. 2024, https://www.britannica.com/art/Romanticism. Accessed 28 January 2025.

2. John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters

3. Lines of Life BY LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON