“If loving someone is putting them in a straitjacket and kicking them down a flight of stairs, then yes, I have loved a few people.”

~ Jarod Kintz

Do you know her? I think I know him.

(Or someone like them).

They’re the no-matter-what-you-do-you-will-regret-it kind, the rare ones that by being so impossible make it all more possible—I have no idea how that works. You can’t keep them but you can’t keep away from them. You can love or hate them, but they’re hard to miss.

They’re some kind of weird glue, while the rest eventually slips off of you. But the crazies “won’t leave you until you come downstairs.”

And sometimes you find a song that must have been written specifically with you in mind, and you click on it and you remember that thing Elie Weisel said that one time before you were born:

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”

So you’re OK, after all, with the scratchy side of the matchbox, with things not being black, or white, not even gray, not now, not ever… because you realize this means we’re alive. We’re people, not colors. Not words.

And you both like and dislike this idea so much you blog it up and hope you’re not the only person in the whole wide world who kicks people down the stairs or gets put in a straitjacket every now and then.

And even though it’s late, you sing at the top of your lungs in your car (that looks like a bike), because if you wait any longer, you’ll forget all the words.

And you’re afraid you might be, just for a few minutes, just right now, maybe happy.

The Lumineers illuminated my day.

She’ll lie and steal and cheat, and beg you from her knees
Make you think she means it this time
She’ll tear a hole in you, the one you can’t repair
But I still love her, I don’t really care

When we were young, Oh Oh, we did enough
When it got cold, Ooh Ooh, we bundled up
I cant be told, Ah Ah, it can’t be done

It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all
The opposite of love’s indifference
Pay attention now, I’m standing on your porch screaming out
And I wont leave until you come downstairs

So keep your head up, keep your love
keep your head up, my love 
Keep your head up, keep your love

I don’t blame ya dear for running like you did, all these years
I would do the same, your best believe
The highway signs say we’re close, but I don’t read those things anymore
I never trusted my own eyes

When we were young oh oh, we did enough
When it got cold, Ooh ooh we bundled up
I can’t be told, Ah ah, it can’t be done

So keep your head up, keep your love
keep your head up, my love 
keep your head up, keep your love.

 

*Bonus: Live is always more fleshy.

 

If Mumford & Sons had any sons, they’d sound like this:

Like elephant culture on Facebook.