The Realm of Possibility

Conseguir lo que quieres es tan difícil como no conseguir lo que quieres. Porque entonces tienes que averiguar qué hacer con ello, en lugar de averiguar qué hacer sin ello.

you will rip yourself to shreds to prove that I am worth loving.
you will not hear the chorus of everyone I've let down.

The heart knows nothing except its own mind.

You were the sun, and I wasn't even the moon.
I loved being the supporting character,
because I felt it was my way of supporting you.
I asked for nothing in return
and wanted so much.

This was how we'd always played.
You were Cinderella, I was a mouse.
You were Alice, I was the Hatter.
You were the sun, and I wasn't even the moon.

I wasn't thinking of marriage, just commitment.
I wasn't thinking of forever, just reveling in now.
We don't know yet how long we're meant to be-
there are so many obstacles down the road.
But there is also possibility; the ring marks the realm of possibility.

Wishing the best for you, knowing it was the worst of me.

teenagers are never joking. when seeking to prove a point, principals and teachers should remember that teenagers are never, ever sarcasic or ironic. if they say "I wish someone would drop a bomb on this school right now," that means they have arranged for a nuclear arsenal to be emptied onto the school and should be immediately suspended and ridiculed. if they say they were merely coming up with a joking excuse to postpone a bio test, reply that all jokes are funny, and that since dropping a bomb on a school is not funny, it is therefore
not
a
joke.

There are hundreds of reasons for Daniel and me
to be impossible. History has not been kind
to two boys who love each other like we do.
But putting that aside. And not even considering
the fact that a hundred and fifty years ago,
his family was in a small town in Russia
and my family was in a similarly small town
in Ireland- I can't imagine they could have
imagined us here, together. Forgetting our gender,
ignoring all the strange roads that led to us
being in the same time and place, there is still
the simple impossibility of love. That all of our
contradicting securities and insecurities,
interests and disinterests, beliefs and doubts,
could somehow translate into this common
uncommon affection should be as impossible
as walking to the moon. But instead, I love him.

I have no more idea now of who I am than I did before. But at least I know that. And I'm starting to figure out who I want to be.