A love song. To all of you.

Sometimes.

Sometimes, sometimes…I miss skin.

I miss everything that I have ever remembered about it. I miss the feel of its warm softness pressing against my cheek, and the lasting impression that its smell left upon my nasal passages. I miss the salty sweetness that it left awash in my saliva. And sometimes, sometimes…I miss the carefree glow that it has in the warmth of a beautiful morning. Sometimes I miss that the most of all.

But it isn’t just that. That’s just the thing that rests on the tip of my straining mind, the thing that has been struggling all day, searching for any semblance of rational thought. Skin is beautiful, skin is lovely, skin is something that I love. But that isn’t what I’ve put myself down here, in my favorite darkness, in my not so favorite chair.
I’d say that it’s time to get a little broader.

Ladies and gentlemen, here, there and everywhere. I have something to tell you.

I love you.

I love you if you’re a crazy person walking down the street, singing a song of madness to yourself without a care in the goddamn world. I love you if you’re a woman who is bumping about, not letting anything else get in your way, because you’ve got a goal and you’re going to seek it out. I love you if you’re beautiful. I love you if you’re ugly. I love you if you’re brilliant, and I love you if you’re simple. I might even love you if I hate you, hate you with any burning capacity that my body can muster.

I love people. Sometimes, all times.

When they love me. And when they hate me.

People around the world, I bow to you.

And more than just love. Love is easy to give, it’s entire existence is something carefree and jubilant. It exists only to be given, to be accepted, and to be violently rejected. Easy, simple, sometimes, all times. Other things are harder.

Like faith.

Faith in God is easy, if you’re the kind that wants it. Omnipotent being, knows all, sees all, totally good, yadda yadda, fucking yadda.

Faith is harder if you believe in no god whatsoever. No religion, no truth in the black. Here we sit, and that’s where we are. That’s who we are.

Faith is hard when you choose to believe in people.
When you see what people do, every single day. When you see them spit, when you see them cry, when you see them kick, when you see them stab. When you see them piss, when you see them bleed, when you see them hate, when you see them fight, when you see them lose.

When you see them be people.
When that word is synonymous with terrible, terrible ignorance.

It’s hard.

But when was the last time something truly worthy of a persons time was anything but maddening?

I love people. I love their skin. I love their minds. I love their faces. I love their quirks, and I love their somewhat lopsided walks. And believe me, I love their deeds. I love it when they surprise us, even though I always say that I don’t like surprises.

I love it when they try, even if they end up failing.

And because of that, I believe in them. I believe in us, all of us. So the world is a little fucked up. We’re scared, we’re mad. We’re worried. But we’re going to be ok.

Because you know what, dearests?

We’re only human.

Which is all we’ll ever need.