13. i’d die too happy
yeah, the thought had crossed my mind too. you know people talk about the types of love you see in the movies but you look at people out your car window and they don’t look anything like your favorite movie characters in love. the people on the street look tired of each other. their hands aren’t holding and they’re not laughing about something no one else in the world would find funny. when’s the last time you saw a man and a woman exchange knowing looks in a bar? you don’t. imagining it gets harder and harder when believing in it seems like the punchline. when you look up at your night ceiling it’s easy to see shooting stars. but to catch one in broad daylight? nearly impossible. is it even worth trying anymore? might as well build a good life all on your own, just for you. that way you don’t wake up one day and your life has slipped by because you never grew out of hoping for the types of loves you see in the movies. you know brad pitt lives alone in real life.
the belief in love. that’s what binds us and what blinds us. we’re all wishing for the same fountain of youth and settling for whatever it is that we see on the streets. we’re in crisis. someone help us, we can’t get out! we’re all miserably in love. no one’s happy these days. not in love and not in life. we’re drowsy. it feels like waking up after a coma. we found out what lives behind closed doors and we didn’t like what we saw. it wasn’t like what you see in crowded theaters. it was solemnly dark. like a pretty girl gone sad and mad. we weren’t kissing in back alleys. we were whispering to walls and crying in bed sheets. we’d lost where we were going months ago. who’s got their hand on the steering wheel when the car crashes on rocks. shipwreck on the island we set sail from. couldn’t escape our own isles, we made insane aslyums. living lonely in our apartments alone and in the basement of our minds. we rotted over time. darkness grows in the dark. how do you think monsters are born? roses don’t bloom beneath the surface, poisonous roots do. the light was so bright like the sun in august. flooding our insides and melting the badness.
but not everyone had seen the sun. some made the most of their time in isolation. living it up while the rest felt like dying. like vampires taking new souls you ate the bats and consumed the trespassers. castles start to feel like caves. you only left your dwellings to catch new prey. virgins made you immortal. but you knew that years ago. it wasn’t your first time hunting at night, it was just easier when the streets were as silent as your heart. taking your first step into the sunlight, will you burn or turn golden again?
like the type of love they talk about it in the movies. the one girls squeal about behind bleachers and boys next to lockers. it was the kind of love only teenagers can dream of. a love without rules and no parents allowed. circling each other’s tails and rolling in each other’s scents. the type of love that didn’t have responsibities because life was about watching sunsets, not having a life savings. wearing an extra layer just so you can offer it to her when she gets cold. telling him you think everything about him is so cool. the type of love that didn’t know holding back was possible. when you’re young love feels like something to be consumed by, not something to be contained. you kissed them because you could, not because you were counting. love didn’t use to be a competition. it used to be the greatest achievement on earth.