it must be who I love. pretty girls with sunshine souls and entire universes behind their eyelids. beach-day beauties with sand in their hair and sea water running through their veins. quiet library princesses tucked in between overcrowded aisles on sunday afternoons. my love is a political statement. there will be protestors commenting on my prom pictures and riots in the streets on my wedding day. we don't get love stories that end with happily ever afters; we get news reports and top stories and trending hashtags. we don't get miracles, we are the tragedies and the mistakes and the regrets. something about me is political. it must be the pride wrapped around my body like a ribbon but chaining me to the brick wall of my school building. maybe it is the fear we evoke because they really are terrified we may take over the world one day. something about a kiss on her cheek is an invitation from a stranger to, "keep being progressive." somehow even in our silence we receive stares and death threats and sexual suggestions. what about me is political? they'd rather see two girls ripping each other's throats out than holding each other's hands. it must have something to do with the passionate way I love her, the way her voice plays like a melody on repeat when I face their accusations once again. her strong arms surrounding me in my weakest moments, tears flowing like a waterfall on my bedroom floor because somehow I let their words in. she takes off my armor and slips a blanket around our shoulders. something about me is political. perhaps it is her strawberry smile and citrus color scheme. the adventures in the back seat of her car on school nights, we told our friends we were taking study breaks. our hearts beating louder than the laws against our love. something about me says that you can turn me away, you won't accept my service. because to you, love isn't love. we know they want to bury us and forget about us, how dare they let a few women live to see the next episode. we're their shock value, their plot devices, and any conversation following is a controversial debate. I am a political statement and i can't quite comprehend the reason behind class discussions about my rights, the saddest part of being a transparent liability is that you're the only one that knows you're a martyr. something about me is political, I know my rights but where is the right to exist, the right to love, the right to peace? put me in a court of law, send me to the white house, it's still difficult to love her knowing there are windows in our living room. there's even criticism in the kitchen cabinets, our house is built on your bills and it's exhausting to always be reading the fine print. something about me is political, and somewhere, I am up for debate.