when i say run, run

for my friend, Bekah

That trill of the violin gets me every time.  That foreshadowing of what’s to come.  How could a violin sing so eloquently of sorrow and heartbreak?  Of sentiment as a chemical defect?  Of love as a dangerous disadvantage?

Do we need a final proof before we get to the final problem?  Is caring truly not an advantage?  Are all hearts truly broken? 

You stand there, smoking your smuggled cigarette.  And you’re wrong.  You know you’re wrong.  The violin speaks for you.  And you can’t hide it any longer.

Falling is just like flying.  And I’m watching you fall in love.