i. the world spins too fast for us. it always has; that's what happens, isn't it? with every generation that's come before.
ii. we all think we're different. we all think we'll outrun the passing of time. we are made of poster signs and lips colored with the blood of the people who told us no. we are made of wanting and dim lights at concerts, the moment before everything swells and we feel too much instead of too little.
iii. we know we won't make it. it's beaten into us and yet we fight, fight, because our battle cry is the sounds we are familiar with; the gasp of a raped person, the scream of a falling innocent, the voices that have accompanied us our entire lives that say no, no, you want and want and what you want is insanity. but we knew our insanity was right. we knew our insanity was something worth fighting for and we did.
iv. there are moments where we wonder. if we're wrong. if our insanity is. then we'll catch the eye of a girl pregnant at sixteen, or a boy killed for being born as a girl, or a black man murdered for an ounce of cocaine while a white murderer walks free, or two girls that will be beaten if their love leaves the shadows.
v. there are more moments when we wonder. and we know, too; our insanity is right.