The larger meaning behind all the University Crushes pages is actually pretty endearing if you look beyond all of the misogynistic, yet hysterical comments. Peppered amongst uninhibited and profane suggestions, there are actually some people that appear to be seeking real emotional connections through anonymous posts of appreciation. Their proclamations of love are being met with a lash of criticism: you cannot possible know that you love someone that you do not interact with on a regular basis, or have even spoken to in a serious context. Love is the wrong word, but their value in our lives is indispensable. It’s exciting to not know these people that inexplicably appeal to our senses, and it’s comforting to admire them from afar. They remind me of the type of relationship I might possibly want one day through the way they comb their hair and banter with strangers. Crushes are like a commodity; they can be fetishized, and collected, and used for our own personal gains and enjoyment. Though never actualized, secret crushes are my favorite; you can’t ruin them because they are in your control. They don’t have the ability to be uprooted by wandering eyes or self-wallowing fears of commitment because the crush isn’t grounded in anything remotely real. Ideally, secret crushes don’t have a life outside of the world you created for them inside of your head.
Maybe the haters on these pages just don’t have an imagination. Shout-out to the muses that make our worlds just a little bit brighter, just by existing. There are some humans that you just like more than others, not in a stalkery way, in a completely functional, appreciative and distant way. They make the world a prettier place, and if we really knew them, they would likely show us demons that look a lot like ours. If I were to write a post, it would look something like this, only it wouldn’t be to anyone in Albany, or to anyone that even my closest friends would expect:
I couldn’t wait to walk away from something I knew I would miss. He scared me in a fiery, chaotic, wholesome, holistic way. I admired him for the books in his room and the words in his head, but mostly for the questions he asked. He forced me to explore a new metaphysical territory of myself in a mere 12 hours and I knew I had to go; maybe I’ll give him a hug when I see him this summer, but he’ll have no idea the kind of havoc we would bring upon the world if we wanted to.
The best part is the person could read this and not even know it was about him, which is perfect because then it wouldn’t be nearly as magical and ideal as I see it now.