Hype
“TO BE loved is to be changed.”
The statement became the internet’s obsession for a little while, even if all it took were a few words and two images of a stuffed toy. Through its simple construction, the statement was able to highlight a person’s capacity to love in a way that surprised everyone who encountered it.
After all, who expects such an endearing statement—from Twitter of all places? In a time full of carefully curated content and information, expressions that are as human as that rarely get a chance to be seen. I think that’s why it resonated with so many—the post allowed people to pause and remember something they’ve forgotten, as it certainly did with me.
I saw the tweet when I went to Manila for school, leaving home in Laguna where my own stuffed animals are. They were my favorite when I was younger, especially my two Mr. Bean “Teddy” stuffed toys. My mom bought the first teddy with me while we were on a field trip to a toy factory, and then a few weeks later she saw an identical one by herself and bought it for me as a surprise. It was a memory I was very fond of; it felt like seeing an old friend I parted ways with.
That memory struck me hard, and all the memories I had forgotten—old toys, old houses, and old friends—came rushing back. Combined with the fact I was introduced to a whole new world and different people for college, being alone with my memories felt isolating. For a moment, though, I found solace in the tweet. It reminded me of how much I, too, loved some thing just like the stranger did. It reminded me that I was given the chance to love something that has changed me deeply. It was a strange feeling, but it’s one I was happy to remember.
After a week or so passed by, I stumbled upon another user’s Twitter thread with the caption: “To be loved is to be changed / I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved, even for a heartbeat.” The latter half of which was taken from a Tumblr post I had not seen in a long time, but it was one that I still remember.
When I first read that Tumblr post in the middle of the pandemic, it hadn’t made sense to me then—but it’s gotten much clearer now. With my freshman year almost done, I’ve started to feel the distance between the people I’ve grown up with—the people who’ve added their own tile in my ever-changing mosaic.
My closest friends from high school are in different colleges, some in other countries even. Given these circumstances, we never get the right chance to catch up. The more people I meet, the less old friends I can reach out to in my everyday life. Add the regularly scheduled stressors of college, and all of that results in a certain feeling of loneliness—a feeling that you’re drifting in cold space, like you’re lightyears away from home.
What brings me back to the ground is how moments in life just remind you of home, the small and subtle reminders of all the people who helped bring you to where you are. Even when I feel lonely, I’ll suddenly remember a good friend when I see a set of swings, a local brand of ice cream, or even something like a matchbox. Just because we’ve grown apart doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how they’ve left a mark on me.
These words from strangers remind me of love and all the times it’s changed me; I know that I’ll always have that, even as I stumble through this new frontier in my life. I hope to remember all these things because I don’t ever want to forget the people that love has brought, is bringing, and will bring me.
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