Yes. Yes. A million times over yes.
Watching fire make me feel free. Makes me feel alive. Makes me sway back and forth as I think of all the others watching fire at the same moment as me. All the people who have ever enjoyed watching the flames dance and throb like lovers and like fighters. Fighters fighting for something real and fighting for something to feel. Fighting for the right to be lovers.
May I borrow your eyes? I want to see what you see. You say I’m beautiful. I can’t see an ounce of beauty in this mirror. I want to see that beauty you speak of. Maybe then I will have a little more respect for myself. I want to know what it’s like to be beautiful. I want to feel like a million bucks. I want to feel confident to strut my stuff. I want to know people will watch me walk past. I just need to know its there, even if only for a brief second. I must know I am beautiful. So I will ask once more, may I borrow your eyes? So that I will see what you see. And know what you know. Just for a moment.
and in that moment, as the page loads, I realize that all I talked about were butts.