Heavy hearts in tight spaces

I'm a hopeful romantic.
I have hope for you.
I hope for romance.
But I'm mainly hopeful for spirituality.

I started thinking a lot about the idea of romance and all the idealism that it footprints after a brief conversation that I had with my mom a few days ago. We succinctly delved into mature matters such as what I hope to do with my life (i.e. moving out, pursuing higher education, traveling, etc.) I didn't mind the concerned motherly inquiries seeing as that our conversations often fall short these days. These inquiries usually fall under interrogation, rather than genuine concern. So I answered all questions earnestly, but one stuck out sorely in refute.

She asked, 'so when do you want to get married?'.
I stagger but reply immediately, 'Mom, I'm still 22. I've got a long way to go. Maybe when I'm 28 or 30? But I'm also not sure about the idea of a formal marriage.'
Exasperated, 'What are you talking about, you have to get married in a Catholic church'
I'm distressed at this point and reply 'I don't know, I think I just want to be spiritual partners with someone'

She laughed and said to me that it should be necessary to find 'the one' and marry him, 'the one' that's supposed to right all your mortal wrongs. 'The one' that's meant to cure that pesky disease called loneliness. 'The one' that is carefully constructed and designed to fit perfectly into society's jigsaw puzzle purely to exemplify and satisfy societal norms and expectations. Curious to understand her philosophy, I continued the conversation inquiring about this idea of repair that I have failed to mend. Insisting, 'Mom, if I love and believe in someone enough to stay with, I wouldn't need to validate my relationship with them. I'll be okay.' My mom, much to her chagrin, remained silent and left the question at the table. She continued on to asked about other matters, but I was still left behind with her curiosity.

I kept thinking about this many days after. My thoughts scattered into the abyss of my consciousness. I thought about what exactly is the case and point here? Was it her fixation on the idea of financial stability for me or the idea that marriage was a tool used for economic, governmental and societal benefits. Or was it the genuine concern for me to be married to someone who actually loved me? After alerting her of my career change and desires for humanitarian ambitions, she MUST be worried about the former. I may be getting ahead of myself in terms of assumptions and what she accredits as successful (in such a broad range of a word) but I feel like she believes that with a mate, I will be able to really live my life in a country that promises opportunity and privilege.

So it occurred to me, is it the institution of marriage that she may in fact be entirely concerned about? I've confessed my renunciation of the Catholic church on several Sunday morning mass invitations. That never seemed to settle with her. If that is the case, marriage may not be the ultimate answer to all questions here. It will not bring me closer to Jesus Christ, nor will it repair my Agnostic practices. Seeing as how the government superimposes discrimination in the most unrelenting form, I question the validity of marriage.

Then I sank deeper into my thoughts again and rewound the conversation over in my head. I thought about the repeal of prop 8 for a considerable amount of time. Why does marriage have to be such a robust institution expelling the most important emotion any being can ever experience: love. I refuse marriage solely based on the idea that a nationally and blatantly religiously recognized 'rights of passage' should not dictate nor measure the amount of love I have for another being. I want the love that I share with my significant other to be immeasurable. Not by a collection of unchecked boxes used to represent my status and what opportunities are available to me.

Maybe I'm speaking naively. Maybe I'm a hyper-empathetic and often feel the need to protest domestic injustices anytime they roll off my mother's tongue. Or maybe I'm just too goddamn idealistic.

I reflected further to when I was younger. My mom used to keep me away from the sun, she said that if I got any darker, no man will ever want to marry me. This memory has always marred my mind because I believed that if someone fell in love with me, the details wouldn't matter. The shade would not matter. The make-up would not matter. My body would not matter. And sometimes I resent these imperialized ideas that were instilled in my mom, in my dad, in our people. I think about the generations that struggled to find belonging in a space where it was necessary to prove that you've surrendered to the enemy. But in the end, I feel wiser and resilient. I know all of this. I know my worth and the power I possess to act on my intention and beliefs.

Shit, I too, believe a union between two people is fucking beautiful. I've seen the softened gazes couples give each other after professing promising words of commitment. I know it.

I just don't believe in the details.

I want to believe in sharing something spiritually with someone. On a remote level that I can't find anywhere else with anyone else but one. Plato's Symposium drives me absolutely nuts thinking about this longing for spiritual compatibility. Damn, and sometimes I think... what if I could find this with several people on several occasions. Immutability is beautiful, but I can't help but think that with sharing these beautiful things with people, it may be a perpetual process. I don't know, maybe it's just me. Maybe I just want to refuse these structures instilled in this culture because I believe in something higher than constricted spaces and emotions.

Whatever it is, I know that in the end, happiness is what keeps these unions alive.
So I'll never stop speaking on that.
Live on love and happiness.
Live on.