The Confusion of Being Us

Dear World,

Different, divergent, disparate. Different from humanity, divergent from standards, disapparate from normal.

Alone, solitary, solus: All results of being the opposed stereotype to what society stated.

Society taught people to judge and label, ignore and destroy. Society taught people to change. Society degraded people. Society hurt people.

Everybody deserves love. Everybody deserves to feel like they belong, to feel like someone needs them, to feel a feeling so rare and raw yet so true. Because in this whole galaxy, on this planet, out of billions of people, everybody deserves someone.

Everybody has someone.

Maybe they haven't met yet, but they will. And once they do, they'll feel their hearts thumping out of their chests trying to connect with the other person's heart and their hands shaking longing to hold the hand of the other person.

Society decided to individualize people for no apparent reason. Separate them from the crowd. It was as if an ocean split in two and all 'normal' people went to one side and people contrary to the merit went on the other side.

And I am one of the contrary.

A flower alone in a vast canyon of sand. Alone and nonconforming.

A lonely flower, beautiful and raw in the middle of a desert.

A lonely flower, damaged and evanescent.

A lonely flower, fleeting.

But I accepted that I was this flower. I soaked up all the rain that fell and tried to appreciate myself, tried to bloom.

I never asked to be accepted or cared for by everyone in the world. I simply asked for one person who would accept me for who I really was, raw and evanescent, damaged and fleeting. All I asked for was one true love.

No complicated, fairy tale love. Just plain old love. Simple and warm, tender and everlasting.

Long walks on a quiet beach. A dark purple sky lit with only the sparkles of stars. The turquoise water brushing up to our bare feet, touching ever so briefly before subsiding back to the vast ocean. A light wind. Laced fingers. Us.

Movies at his house. A sofa with countless pillows and blankets. Tangled up legs and arms. A crackling, crimson fire. Dim lights. Us.

50s inspired diner. A red and white booth. One vanilla milkshake, two straws. Old fashioned jukebox. Elvis. Us.

Pink and orange skies fading behind a mountain, a dark blue taking over. Us.

Us.

Two people in love. Two people who care. Two people opening their souls for one another.

Two people destined to be together.

Love is a figment of imagination, an ideal that all humans aspire and need. Yet we all crave it. Why is it that we long for this feeling? We sacrifice everything we have for this romantic illusion. We go through abiding pain. And is it worth it?

Yes.

Love,

Lola (@Bebana_0809)