Revenge of the Nerds 1: Is it Love or Insecurity?

Ever been so desperate for love you would destroy anything for it?

Sorry for the delay. Last week was my birthday, and I was lucky enough to travel somewhere warm with a lot of water,.I did a lot of writing, but primarily for myself. No worries, though; I’m back and refreshed.

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There was a period in each of our lives when we were dreamers. Back then, our potential felt unlimited and exciting. We weren’t sure we would ever hit the peak of whatever it was, but we were happy to be able to do it, because the simple act of being in a state of creation, whatever that might be, was enough.

Writing has been the space in which I have felt the strongest for as long as I can remember. No matter where I am in life, what state of mind I’m in, or what priorities I need to attend to, the desire to put pen to paper exists. In my wildest dreams, I hope to be able to make a living off my words. While that hasn’t happened, I still find immense joy in crafting literary imagery that challenges, inspires, and engages others. There’s magic in what we can say, and it becomes tangible when we write it down; writing gives me the ability to manifest. But there’s another side of this passion project, one that I don’t like to talk about, one that I sometimes find embarrassment and shame from; it’s the not-so-silent desire to have my creations hailed as the greatest things in the world, for people to fawn over my words, for a mountain of accolades, to be validated.

This might feel like a sharp left turn, so let’s get serious. First, Is it safe here? Good, then I won’t hold back. There’s another piece of me; I would say that it’s hidden in the deepest part of my heart, but that’s a lie. I’m constantly attempting to evade the shadow it casts, but I’m not always successful, and that’s the screaming desire to be loved. But not just any love, the kind that is unbreakable, unshakable, and even blind. The kind of love that doesn’t acknowledge my flaws because in my lover's eyes, I can't do any wrong, the kind of love that is only for me, the type of love that is so boundless the hole in my heart will finally be filled.

I write because I have something to say, I write because I love it, but I also write because I’m insecure, and that insecurity has influenced much of my life and who I am today. Intellectually, I understand this insecurity and desire for blind love is dangerous because no such thing exists. Still, most importantly, pursuing such irrational love in the hopes of filling a hole is destructive; in the least grim circumstances, it will only destroy you. However, it can incinerate all of us with enough power and influence. So today’s essay is about love because every day, I try to manage my need for it, and I watch others who seem to be losing or have lost the battle.

Drake took an art form that brought him endless joy and used it to transform his life. You can hear his excitement for music if you listen to his earlier projects or interviews. That passion propelled him to heights no one has ever reached, and for a long time, he was indeed the King of Hip Hop, but like most things in life, nothing lasts forever. So, after ten years of being incapable of doing anything wrong, Drake entered into a public beef with Virginia Rapper Pusha T. Before a song was dropped, most people, myself included, assumed Drake would make quick work of him; we were wrong. While Drake started hot with the song Duppy, Pusha’s response quickly defeated him, “The Story of Addidon,” a song whose artwork depicted Drake wearing Blackface, revealed that Drake had a child on the way, questioned the validity that he wrote his rhymes and his racial identity.

After that loss, there was a shift in Drake’s tone. Before Kendrick annihilated him for half a year, the Drake we once knew and loved was already mostly gone. His songs felt less optimistic and more braggadocios; tracks about unrequited love became lyrical rants about the women he conquered, and the cool friend became the arrogant antagonist. I recognized this shift in Drake because I have sometimes seen it in myself. It’s the behavior of someone putting up barriers to hide their hurt, cosplaying what they believe to be strong because the idea of just being scares them to death. In 2022, I got a big promotion and thought I would succeed in that new role, but a combination of bad luck, an unhealthy work environment, and unforced errors led to negative outcomes. I wasn’t ready to see my role in the struggles, so I highlighted everyone else’s flaws and isolated myself from others. I thought my behavior was justified at the time, but it just made things worse.

Everyone wants to be loved, but how many of us know what a healthy love looks like? I doubt many of us do. I don’t know Drake, but from the little I have learned about him during his 15+ year career, it feels like he may have some demons he has yet to face; those demons seem to be running things today. If we want to understand how things get to this point, we must return to the beginning. As an uninformed outsider, I can imagine how difficult it must have been to grow up as a bi-racial kid in Canada without your father. I wonder how he and his family navigated that. Did it bother him? Did he ever sit up late at night blaming himself for his father's absence? What lessons did he take from this childhood? What kind of love did he receive? I can see myself clearly in these questions.

Unlike Drake, my father has almost always been in my life, but my mother was deported shortly after I was born, and that is something I have carried with me since. Additionally, while he did raise me, my father wasn’t always mentally there, which led to more instances than I care to talk about where one of the most important people in my life was projecting his trauma onto his son.

He and my stepmother loved me deeply, but that love was often wrapped in a bow of physical and verbal abuse, long bouts of the silent treatment, or rants about me not being “good enough.” I’m old enough now to know that wasn’t about me, but before time and therapy could begin to heal those wounds, I learned to mask my emotions while constantly tracking the feelings and energy of others; I taught myself to be amiable and charming so that people would feel safe around me, I focused on doing well in school and excelling so that people would see my worth. It was how I survived that household and proved that I could be “enough.”

That process made me view love as something you need to earn; it was a transaction of sorts. A lot of men are brought up this way; we are told by society that our value is tied to our ability to do or be something. Then, trouble comes when we check off the boxes and still don’t get the love we desire. That’s why men and boys like Drake and myself can sometimes transform into beings that cause harm. In our minds, we start as one of the “good ones,” the rule followers, the nerds, and then reality hits, and we vow to transform to attain vengeance. After my transformation, I became defensive, condescending, cold, and withdrawn; everyone was the enemy.

The Drake from days before is gone; we now have a self-centered bully who enjoys attacking women through verbal jabs, filing lawsuits as a form of temper tantrums, and hanging out with dubious online characters; it’s as if the pain has caused him to devolve into a 12-year old.

Is there a universe where our broken souls can find redemption? I think so, but first, we must have some uncomfortable conversations. Here’s the truth: there is no such thing as a villain; people don’t just wake up one morning and decide to wreak havoc on the world. For every action, there is a story that gives context to what happened and a road of missed opportunities to break this endless cycle. In Revenge of the Nerds, we’ll ask the million-dollar question, “How did we get here?” Are men like Drake, Trump, Elon Musk, and yours truly inevitable, or are we missing something? Here’s what I think: no one is irredeemable; there’s a way out of the abyss, but we have to understand what created it, own our part in the mess, and find liberation through each other.