"You're my exception."
And then there is a kiss that pays no attention to my tears.

I have a stupid grin on my face.
My blanket is wrapped tighter than his fingers were around her wrist, begging her not to go.
My eyes swell up and the credits roll.

As I close my laptop, I close again my chest.
See, it was exposed.
So long. To the emotions and feelings and judgement of others.
I thought I could handle it, but my gut was ripped out.
My intestines were untangled on the floor.
It's funny how something labeled as "small" is really so big.
Kind of like love, you know?

It's a word. A noun. 4 letters. Nothing more.
But then you see it in action.
You see the beauty, the ugly, the loathing, the accepting.
Some see people holding hands, others see a man dying on a cross.
Some see the covering of a blanket and others see the covering of His blood.

But what enraptures us is what it is like when we are the scientist.
It's an addiction.
We crave the feeling.
We want to shoot up hand holding. We want smoke acceptance.
We cake our face in the ******* of beauty to fool the beholder all because we want to feel worthy enough to fight for.

Every person has this image plastered in their lids.
We see it, day in, day out.
We go to the deli thinking, "Maybe she was the one. Should I have said something?"
We go to the gym just to see this one guy who only comes in on Thursdays, Saturdays and twice on Tuesdays just because he can.
We try so hard.
We match our schedules up to people we have never even spoken to, because it's scripted.
It's in the movies so it must be real.
There must be magic. Fate. God. Someone.
Those stories don't just come from thin air, right?

I think I watch RomComs to reiterate to myself that that stuff doesn't happen in real life.
No one is going to stop me from getting on a plane.
No one is going to come to my place at 3am and tell me that they love me.
I'm not going to go to Rome, run into a lost friend and find love.
That just doesn't happen in real life. It's scripted. It's TOO perfect.

And yet, I open my laptop, wash my hands, put on my mask, open my chest up and start to work on it again.
The stitches never stay.
The sutures are always ripped.
The gauze is red but I convince myself it isn't blood, but rather love.

She was everything he was not
He was everything she wanted
She was a nervous wreck
he was too, but in denial
She wanted to save him
from not wanting to be saved
He wanted to protect her
from whatever might come
they were young
and yes,
they were stupid too
just like everybody else
She went away
He stayed a hometown boy
who wasn't at home
She could sing
He could listen
she was a wild child
looking for a port to settle
he was a nice guy
looking for something
not so nice
children of divorce
kindled a feeling of
let's make this work no matter what
and maybe it won't
they don't seem to care
too many romcoms
and too many chipped shoulders
all they wanted
was to write
their own love story

You are getting nosebleeds at all the wrong times
the tears welling up behind your eyes to track down  your
pale, pockmarked cheek
and that bulging in your throat constricting the airflow
let’s you know that fast can be too fast
you thrive with the sunlight
but like flowers standing tall against the oncoming winter
you wilt with day’s last breath
what time did you get home this morning?
hair all matted and stood up
smelling like a sorority party massacre
glitter, wine, tequila, coke, and anonymous ****
take another adderall
******* for the bored children
feel the electrical signals pulse from your brain
to snap your pupils to attention
wash the ***** out of your hair sweet heart
the boys back home never talked to you the way these city boys do
“girl, *****, chick, ****, ***** -”
“oh her? yeah she’s a sure ****
her legs are like seven eleven
they’re not always doing business, but they’re always open…”
So forget the night ever happened
each day brings new opportunities
but they all want you
they all want one thing from you
and you don’t want to say no
don’t want to make them mad,
be a tease, a *****, frigid
and you like the way they make you feel special and beautiful
until the next morning
with the nosebleeds and the dry heaving in strange toilets
and you are waiting for Prince Charming, huh?
as if he will jump out of cheesy romcoms and magazines to hold you steady
well Prince charming is dead weight slowly spinning beneath a frayed, twisted rope
in a dark closet next to the nameless stranger and the noble outlaw
so go ahead and smash those mirrors sweetheart
what’s seven years more bad luck?

You make me believe in romcoms again.
You’re the one I wouldn’t run away from.

we all want a movie ending
those romcoms you see on valentine’s day
that kind of ending
after all, i am a film student

but film has taught me more than the hollywood romance
it has taught me the crushing realities of life
the noir, lesser known tragedies and
the indie, underappreciated art of living

so the days that i wander and think about how we might reunite on a new york city street, coffee in tow and heels on, catching up and suddenly eloping in a whirlwind romance,
i curse hollywood for tainting my imagination
for cursing me with unnecessary pain through setups and disappointments

but then again, film has taught me that i will get my movie ending,
except i am not, and will not be the audience
i am the director, the screenwriter and the editor.

I wanted you to love me,
That's all I ever pined for through these years
But I still cry most times
When I think of the fact that you failed to love me
I'll never understand why you didn't love me
You claimed to,
But it didn't show in your actions.
You were selfish.
As was I.

But that's life, right?
It keeps cracking your heart open
Until you can't close it anymore
It gets to the point where there are no plausible explanations your mind can come up with anylonger
It gets to the point where
Only your heart can comprehend the world with all of it's suffering
Only your heart can try it's best to patch up the world
With the bits of love that flow through you from God

Keeping an open heart is baffling, really
It just doesn't make sense
It's hella painful
Exceptionally brutal
And exquisitely breathtaking, beautifully astounding
There are no words in any language
That can properly express
Genuine love

But let's keep it like that
Let love remain a mystery
In it's confounding splendor
Leave it to be one of those few things
That academics can't pin down precisely
Let love be what it is in it's truest form:
Magical
Like when you really see nature for the first time,
You know?
You see how really gorgeous it all is,
And how intelligent it is
And in that passing moment of awe
It's easy to entertain the idea of God
But you eventually have to walk back to your cubicle
Where your mind is like a safe container
That computes certainty
But love is magical,
Love is uncertain,
It's powerful

I guess what I'm trying to say is that love is transformative,
You know?
And it's humbling
I mean, I'm not talking about Romeo and Juliet,
I'm not referring to RomComs where a man and a woman fall in love within the span of three days,
C'mon,
Can we all admit that is BS?
Love is not magical like the way it is portrayed in fairytales
Love is magical because it is the very essence of life,
The driving force of life
It's what sustains us,
It's what connects us
It's what changes us
Into brave children of God
Formerly we were
Scarred, angry little children
Throwing darts at perceived enemies
But no one is the enemy here,
That's what love reveals
We're all just lost children
Hiding under the shielded guise of our egos
Until, well until
We throw up our hands in surrender
And say with all our heart,
"I can't do this without you God.
Help me."