How deviant can you be if you're doing the same things everyone else is doing? Believing the same things your society believes in? And responding the same way you've been programmed to respond? What if you truly went against the system, chose a less popular but true way? And saw the other side of the world we live in? What if you were Rebellious?

I want love so bad, I can feel my fingers and toes curl up with just the thought. I want to be in love, something romantic, deep and strange all at the same time. I want to be kissed till I lose my mind, fall into an abyss and forget myself for a time. I want to be in love. I want love so bad. I want to be loved.

I want to feel everything at the same time; love, truth and hope. My heart aches and aches for the day I find it, maybe like broken pieces on the ground. Maybe I'll pick it up and put it back together, maybe I'll put the pieces back together and maybe, just maybe then it will make sense. Maybe then, just maybe I will get it, it will be mine. Just maybe I could have love and be loved..


Where could it be? where will I find it? does it know me yet? does it know I exist? does it know my name? I woke up cold today, so cold. If I could find it..

Broken. Is love broken? I could fix it, that could be me.
They found me broken, somewhere abandoned and fragile. With no strength in me, I raised a weathered white flag, begging for truce and acceptance, I begged for hope, I begged for peace.
In the mirror, I see damage, rough edges and missing pieces, but that's me, I'm here. This is me. Can I be found?

I want to be in love so bad. Kissed till I fall into an abyss completely and lose myself completely. Till I forget myself. Till it's no longer me, till I'm gone. Till I disappear..

A silent cry exploded from the lips of the woman seated across from me, the one I had just spoken silence with. We looked gaunt, ashen and plain. I pulled my jacket tighter across my body as I felt the shiver run down my spine. It wasn't cold on the train, but we were frozen for a second in time. I watched her get up and leave once the train pulled to a stop and adjusted myself to leave room for the stranger seated next to me. Two people now came and stood in front of me talking about moving to an even bigger and better city, one with enough lights and sounds to deafen the scream coming from their bellies. Everywhere I looked I saw them: slain, conquered, dead, dying, barely holding on, crying, wishing, hoping, searching, empty, desperate and needy. I shut my eyes and rubbed them, hoping I was merely making things up. Then I opened them again, nope, still there.

I heard it again, this time it was a little girl's plea. Her scratchy voice, filled with horror and uncertainty, rang out in the silence. The air stood still, the sound of the train on the tracks ceased and all at once I heard them out of nowhere, in chorus, singing. Each one, holding a note in their heart, bared it all out, they pleaded. The sound; It was a low and humble cry, a sad song that was pulled from the depths and spilled into the air. This is not about me, it dawned on me like cold water. It never was..

I looked around now and saw them again, slain, conquered, ruined, lost, forgotten, uncertain, broken, shattered, spoiled, wasted. This is not about me but now I felt compelled, I have to move, I have to stand up, but how? I could barely move my legs myself.

But her voice begging, his voice crying, her voice pleading, his voice asking,
her voice, his voice, her voice, his voice, hers, his, hers, his, hers, his,..
In chorus..they cried, shouting, begging, asking!
I couldn't..

This is not about me, but I looked down at my hands as they slowly broke away. I, too, am broken I realize..This time I hear my voice calling out in the silence, crying and pleading, begging and asking..
My voice rings out in my ears, my lips part and I can't stop myself, I whisper in the frozen train, Love me. I look up and see that I am part of that chorus, head raised, high screaming at the top of my lungs; Love me!

So simple a need, so cliche a desire, so well worn out, a theme. It's been sung about too many times to count and written about in every language possible. Still, it's still there.
I'm not the first to see this, neither will I be the last.

I saw the broken pieces slowly be fitted together, I know I was heard. The puzzle began to make sense and as my hands were put together, I spread them out in front of me. This time I asked a different question, hearing the plea again, I asked for a solution, a way to move my feet. And in a vision, I saw the stones be lifted up from the ground, come together in one piece and the people around me clapping this time, singing with hope. I knew there was a chance after all.

Maybe I am one of the lucky ones, because I hear that cry, that plea, the begging for mercy and hope, the cry of alarm, for help, for a savior. But I am not afraid anymore. It's still a sad song I hear, but I have one of my own now. It's about moving feet, change and turning sad songs into happy ones.
I'm not completely sure how, but I know it's coming to me.

I feel it.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; 
 Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.
This is who we are.


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