I was born into Generation X and grew up in the 80’s. We did the craziest shit back then. Life was fascinating before social media. It was filled with things you could hear, see, touch, smell and taste.
We talked to each other in person. We hung out physically and went to places together opposed to visiting one another online. Passing notes in class and the euphoric feeling when you opened the mailbox and there was snail mail waiting for you. Letters from distant pen pals and magazines with pretty pictures of things you had never seen before — minus the pop up ads.
We used pencil and paper.
We captured memories with Polaroid cameras.
When we had an issue we turned to therapy, not Facebook.
We had more time. Time for reading books, time for creating things with our hands. Time to clear our minds. Time to value and appreciate relationships. The intensity and connection you felt from the value of a few dear friends passing notes in class opposed to 2K followers on Instagram, and superficial engagement.
The library was our (secret) bad-ass place to meet up and hang out.
I wrote all of my fucked up feelings in journals I saved in a box.
