They’ll say we’re crazy, we’ll say we’re alive.

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The other night I was stuck in my head. A usual incident after talking to my father, who I think may be in the midst of a manic episode.

I was with my partner in our puzzle lounge, a grungy and beautiful room upstairs that was made for “us”, and it was pouring outside.

“Will you do me a favor?” I ask. “Can we go outside?” Without a beat she agrees. Of course she agrees because she loves to live the way I love to live. In an odd and out of this world way.

We ran outside in the pouring rain. Dancing, singing, and most importantly loving. In an accent my partner yells out “they’ll say we’re crazy! And we’ll say, we’re alive”

There it is. Suddenly I’m out of my head. I’m laying in the grass, rain pouring over my body, screaming out loud. Alive. Maybe crazy. But alive.

I am alive with you. In a way I’ve never been before. You let me live the way I need to. The way I want to. With ups and downs and magic in between.

I want to spend the rest of my life with someone who will run outside in the rain with me. Who will breathe in the fresh and wet air without a second thought. Who will soak their clothes and then delicately wash me in the shower afterwards. I have found a light in this world. A fresh, beautiful, breath of air. I’ll breathe you in and out for the rest of my days.

They’ll say we’re crazy. We’ll say we’re alive.

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