hella red hair

and you see him for the first time again, something in your heart breaks and heals at once, an implosion that sends you moving, moving, kissing him because of course, this is ridiculous, who cares who’s watching: the sky can darken and the sun can go out and teeth can snap but here, here in his arms. this is the only moment that matters and he is the only one you’ve thought of for months now, and maybe you’re not good at emotions, maybe you’re too good at hiding things behind a joke: but he’s real. and he matters in a way nothing else does. so you kiss him, and hope he knows.

and given how he holds you, you’re pretty sure he does.

it doesn’t have to be loud or violent to feel loud and violent

“think of his career!” oh, my mistake, i was thinking of her life, of the smile that’s left her eyes, of  how ashes taste, of how  i had to burn the outfit he touched me in when it used to be my favorite   i was thinking of her, as a person instead of the money he’s capable of making   i know, astronomically, in the bank account, his future means more than my body because come on, didn’t he already own me? can’t i just get over it for him,  for the sake of propriety? oh, my mistake,  there’s no fire here,  just ghosts, just  memory.

we have a right to property. but when people tell you “this car is killing people”, the car is recalled. we understand that safety measures are in place to protect us, and the ones we love. we do not demand we keep the car because it’s never personally been dangerous for us. it is punishable to drive without a seat belt in many states. it is punishable to text and drive in many states. this is okay. 

we have a right to expression. but when we found out lead paint was the cause of birth defects and long-term illnesses and even death, we said, okay, express yourself without the lead paint, please. we understood this was a good thing.

we have a right to liberty. but there are liberties that are controlled. drugs and alcohol are still subject to government intervention, because they can kill you and the ones you love. we understand liberty does not mean driving drunk or giving school kids cigarettes. the war on drugs, despite being racist and unproductive, has continued for years because of the single, abject fear of it effecting children. 

we have a bill of rights, yes. several are about the justice system; it does not make the justice system healthy or free from legitimate criticism. 

at the end of the day, “having a right to it” does not make it a healthy, sane, or appropriate choice. you have a right to own a car that will kill you. you have a right to eat lead paint to your heart’s content. 

but there is no right that allows you to willingly and knowingly put another person’s life in danger, except for the second amendment. i have seen people who fight to keep it turn around and defend the war on drugs, because “what about the children”. i have seen people who fight to keep it use weapons as accessories, poised around an arsenal fit for a small army, telling me come and take it. that’s what the argument comes down to: a threat.

i do not allow children to run with knives, although, technically, it is their right to bear arms. i know a danger and i move to stop it, even if they cry.

we sort through our children’s halloween candy, we buckle them before we drive, we make them wear helmets. we know a danger, and we move to stop it, even if it means giving up small liberties.

it shouldn’t be political. it shouldn’t be a necessary statement at all. i believe that when lives are on the line, you do whatever it takes to save those lives. you recall the cars. you make it illegal for minors to purchase addictive things. you don’t stand in the smoke of a burning house and say “now isn’t the time to talk about the importance of fire alarms.” you say, “let’s go get a fire alarm.”

it’s a long drive and i have a lot to think about. most of it is about you, and us, and if we can continue, or if we were ever really a thing to begin with. it’s hard ending something that never really started. it’s hard admitting in the end we were wrong for each other because it also feels like we never gave it a real shot. i’m tired and i miss you. but i’m looking for light and all you know is dark.

i feel an inch away from crying. a mile away from my own heart. you’re the person i want to talk to about how much it hurts not being able to talk to you. if i start the breakdown i’ll never figure out how to apply the brakes. 

loneliness in the age of the internet is a strange creature to grapple with. how can you say you’re alone when the whole world is at your fingertips. how can you say you’re not when you’re watching the whole world continue to exist as if you don’t matter for being in it. every missed party and missed opportunity lit up in high definition. every memory you’d rather forget. it would be so easy to just pick up the phone, right? send that message. but still, that fear: what if you try and nobody wants to listen?

i look at you and i don’t want to admit that what we were has died somewhere, in between missed messages and long pauses and brief kisses. i want to go back to where we were happy and honeymooning, our fingers always so in awe of each other’s bodies, our mouths hungry, endlessly searching for ways to make the other person happy. i hate knowing it all adds up to nothing. that we can be in love but in the end we’re two people who are walking towards different highways. i tell you i think we’re crumbling but we both avert our eyes. it’s not polite to stare at tragedy. i kiss you and keep a countdown and know you’re here but you’re already leaving.

Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov (via temporary)

Salem Saberhagen, everyone.