mine will be a story of the truth in lies. the unwritten possibilities that no amount of education ever taught. the harm in doing nothing. the consequence of what has too long gone unspoken. mine will be a story of the quiet child. the one in the corner. the one whose unanswered questions are all the company she's ever known. the one who waved farewell to innocence before her fifth year. mine will be a story of love gone wrong. of love burdened by distance. scarred by rejection. broken by each and every cliche hurled in a moment of anger. of love denied an existence by people who should have no say in the matter. mine will be a story of fear. an anonymous voice for the battered woman, praying in the corner. a comforting hand for the girl-slash-boy-slash-neverknewbecausenobodystoppedtoaskherhowshefelt walking down an unfamiliar street without fear. mine will be a story of rejection. of being overlooked, discarded, dissected. of being scrutinized and categorized without once being seen. of being criticized for genetics and our argument that sexuality is not a choice. mine will be a story of a people. a mother. a son. a daughter. a father. and all the sons-turned-daughters and daughters-turned-sons and two mother or two father families that brought color and pride into an otherwise grey existence. mine will be a story of triumph. the exalted shouts of one student who was not afraid to challenge her administration's views on "special rights". the unbreakable grip of a woman's hand on her lover's shoulder as they hold their committment ceremony in the middle of times square. the indescribable joy of two men holding their newly adopted daughter, demanding that the world take a better look at its definition of a family. mine will be a story of change.
mine will be a story
were it possible i have loved you since before you were born spent my whole life searching for something i had not seen and now in the fading shadow of love i can finally put a face to a dream