Just Take Me

“We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.”

Last night, I met a banker from Houston. I don’t think he’s going to use my number though, because to him I’m probably a risky investment.

I think love is like words; the ones we promise and the ones we really believe in. Words, like love that tip our scales in order to remind us that we’re just trying to stay balanced. We’ll keep trying.

For a banker, I think love is more like dollars and cents. Budgeting out the checkbook, keeping inventory on the value of the beats in the heart. “Am I an asset or a liability?”, he’d ask. But, when he looked at me I think he was doing math in his head, calculating the potential losses and gains if he were to invest his time in me.

But I’m risky business.

It must have been a farmer that asked himself one day, “Why am I going to buy this cow, if I can get the milk for free?” I never knew that farmers were such sluts. Working the land? More like working the streets.

For some, it’s better to love cautiously. Like a cop, who has to keep one hand on his gun and the other on his heart knowing that around any corner he might lose his breath. For some, love is a danger zone filled with land mines and traps. But we’re all soldiers when it comes to love. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like the battles are worth it. But we still have to fight, y’all.

Like my friend Richie, who fights for his love in people with humor. It’s really beautiful.

But lately I’ve been keeping my white flag at half-mast. It’s my own way of fighting for hope.

“There are things we know by heart and things we don’t.”

For someone who thinks in numbers, there can’t be much room for faith. To them, it wouldn’t weigh enough to help balance the equation. A banker needs to know that the statistics prove in favor for an investment. Putting all your eggs in a basket that relies on hope would be too faulty.

I don’t think statistics are very honest.

I’m not a meteorologist that plans around the patterns of a weather system in order to try and beat the storm. If the storm comes, I’ll sit back and watch it roll by. Love can’t be that predictable.

I promise I will keep fighting. I will continue to write in order to remind myself of the promises I know I must keep. When I see you, I will remember the colors you once gave me in your words. And someday, I will remind you of the magic you showed me that I had forgotten ever existed.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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