My friends and I often joke about how people want to play the "idgaf game" with each other. We are so determined to hide what we are and how we feel to each other. The popularization of the word "situationship" shows we will even go so far as to admit to it boldly, to label the lack of definition we wish to give to our feelings. We know exactly what we want, yet we are afraid to say it. Why that is the case depends on the person: perhaps it is avoidant attachment, a fear of rejection, or the quiet, often unintentioned selfishness that you only want pieces of a person and not the whole beast.

When preparing for the New Year, I made a bingo card of things I want to accomplish this year. This is the second year in a row I've done this, and on both cards, I put "Fall in Love." Everything else on the list is practical — a trip to another state, mastering three new recipes, changing my legal name, etc. The only other non-material bingo square says "No Emotionally Immature Losers," which is arguably related to the "Fall in Love" square. After all, my main roadblock to love has primarily been my tendency towards individuals who cannot or will not be able to reciprocate how hard I love. I am mushy inside, and I often have allowed these Emotionally Immature Losers to make me feel bad for being that way while simultaneously, they benefit from my mushiness. It is a repeated occurrence in my life: from my mom to former partners to old friends.

I'm not completely free of playing the "idgaf game." I find myself tending towards it more and more. The older I get, the more aware I am of how easily my better qualities can be turned against me. A relationship can result in you hating the best parts of yourself, alongside the worst.

I think this might be why so many of us are in this hell where we want love but will not admit to it. We have seen what happens when we tell people what we want. They deliver, sometimes. They fail, a lot of the time. They find new and creative ways to worm under your skin, to hurt you in a ways you hadn't even considered when you bore your heart to them. This is not exclusive to romance, though it is particularly biting. Friends, parents, hell - even coworkers will do this.

Yet, we want to be known. We yearn. We go on those apps and we talk to people at parties and we try to make friends in new, uncertain ways and places. We continue to risk what we know is inevitable — rejection, hurt, and even the quiet disappearance of someone from your life. We go through the motions, no matter what type of relationship it is, but the end result is the same.

It does not matter how many times my heart gets broken; I still want to love someone and be loved. However, I find myself more jaded. I put more of a distance up between myself and others, even friends who I love so fiercely. Part of me doesn't want to do the work of love. I just want the end result to fall into my lap and maybe hold my hand and stroke my hair (could they also have fantastic taste in movies and be a playful top?)

Jokes aside, I think we should encourage each other to be honest with ourselves about why we want love, what's preventing us from getting it, and if our methods are sound. For instance, I do not think I am approaching love with the wholesomeness it deserves. If we seek truth from facts, then the facts are this: every entanglement since I began my transition has been a disastrous failure. I have not gone on a date in over a year, and it has been because I don't want to spend time on a person who might be awful. I can remember what it feels like to crush on someone. I know the excitement of learning a person. I am not above the work love requires, but I am exhausted by putting the work into the wrong people. The fear of wanting love and being burned for it prevents me from seeking out what I want authentically. The end result is me making poor choices and oftentimes missing the love I have in front of me.

I still believe in my wish to fall in love this year. I know it is possible. However, I need to learn the balance between avoiding love out of fear and loving with abandon. I am tired of shying away from the right kinds of love, while allowing the wrong kinds to make me miserable. I am surrounded by friends who hold such special places in my life, and still, I avoid holding their hand or returning their hug or telling them how much I appreciate them.

With that, 2026 will be the year of loving the people who love me. It will be the year of being unafraid of what I want. Most of all, I am hopeful it will be the year where love truly becomes defined by the choices we make, not the things we say.

First, this essay isn't to dog on anyone who resonated with Boswell's writing, nor the author himself. This week has been particularly hard. Bombing Venezuela, kidnapping Maduro, murdering Renee Good, and now the bombings on Gaza are back in full swing (though the genocide never ended). It is heavy. I don't blame people for having a moment where you resent people's apathy. During weeks where decades happen, that reaction is more than reasonable.

That resentment needs to be a reaction, not a sustained emotion or something that guides your interactions with others. Shame and guilt may have been the reason why you joined a particular movement. I know, for me, I became involved in Palestine solidarity work because I couldn't stand the guilt eating me. However, it also took me a long time to find an organization where I fit in. Once I found my place, I found shame and guilt were less motivating. Now, my organizing gets sustained by a lot of things - my love of my city, the belief that a better world is possible if we fight for it, the joy of seeing new faces, my activist friends whose work, strength, and attitudes I admire, the desire to fight and win against these rabid imperialists, etc. - but shame and guilt are far from my mind.

The fact is not everyone is motivated by guilt, shame, or even sometimes a sense of righteous injustice. Maybe they should be. I don't think I would wholly disagree. But if instead of resenting people for their lack of involvement, we worked to bring them into the fight with us, we might find ourselves less frustrated and more successful. If your friend cares about the murder of Renee Good but they won't attend a protest, you should investigate why that is. Boswell touches on the common reasons: maybe they're scared, their loved ones would worry or disapprove, or yes, sometimes they are just lazy and selfish. They might also think protests don't do anything. They might think there is nothing they, individually, can do to help. Honestly, some people might have a practical barrier preventing them from participating, and it makes them so ashamed that they just don't bother, and maybe if you (or your group) offered them support, you'd find they could participate. A person of conscience is already likely aware of their reasons why they're not an activist.

As a Marxist-Leninist, I would say most of these reasons fall into some form of liberalism, and we have a responsibility to talk amongst our friends, coworkers, and neighbors to hopefully combat some of these thoughts. Sometimes all a person needs is for a friend, or just someone whose opinion they respect, to empathetically explain why they should get the hell over that nonsense and hit the streets.

Often, making someone feel guilty for their lack of action, even if they should feel guilty, has the opposite effect. A lot of these people who do nothing already feel guilty. If guilt were powerful enough on its own, they are already in the fight with us.

I believe we win people over by struggling against their bad ideas. If someone thinks that protest does something, talk with them about why you don't agree with them. If they think they can't help, try to get them involved in whatever group(s) you're in and show them there are tasks they can take up. If they're worried they can't help enough because they're a parent, they work fulltime, or they have health issues, then offer your support where appropriate and remind them that any help is appreciated.

We are working collectively to achieve our goals, and everyone's place in that collective effort is valuable. We are closer to winning by having another person join us. That is how we should approach winning over the people who claim to care but do nothing: create space, combat their liberalisms, and ground each other in our desire to win against these monsters.

A short personal essay about Heated Rivalry, Christmas, and found family. Spoilers for the show's ending.