Hello Again, My Dear

I WANT YOU TO BE MINE. SELFISHLY, THOUGHTLESSLY, MINE

I hope that when they come, it’s quick; that when we stare down the barrels of their guns they see resolve in our eyes, not fear; that when the world sees it happen they will be outraged and not silent; that the rest of the world will grant us more kindness than we had for them.

I hope that when future generations tell our stories they’ll talk about how we joked our way to the end and embraced it; that we put up a fight but most importantly that we refused to give up our joy even while in chains; even when they took everything.

I hope that those of us who make it refuse to let it happen again and do not become so blinded by the trauma that not only are we willing to let history repeat itself but that we allowed it to make us the tyrants.

I hope that the next generation and the ones after that remember that it wasn’t just tragic but that it was also beautiful; that we found strength in our community when half of our country turned on us; that we sang and wrote and painted and marched and protested and finally smiled at the sight of their guns upon our temples and we never gave them the satisfaction of seeing how afraid we were; not just for ourselves but for the people we loved and would be leaving behind. For the ones who didn’t get to just die but also had to endure.

These words, a work of fiction, a dystopian nightmare we will never have to see come to life, I hope.