Teach the Torches to Burn

by Caleb Roehrig

Benvolio talks about girls the way I try to talk to him about sunlight—how magical it is, how undefinable, how exquisitely beautiful in all its permutations; at any given time, he is pursuing multiple paramours, and each one is uniquely alluring, uniquely irresistible. But I have never felt that way about any girl. Why have I never felt that way?

“Sometimes I feel as though I am being crushed alive, but it’s happening so slowly, no one believes me when I tell them. Sometimes it feels like the most important parts of me are the ones I can’t share with the people who are the most important to me. Does that make any sense?” “Yes.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes in the depth of the well. “When someone has decided who you are, and they won’t let you change their mind, what are you meant to do? Where is left to go?”

“I guess that’s the thing about masks … you wear one long enough, you eventually forget it isn’t your real face.”

When he pulls back, his mouth swollen, his eyes dazed and glittering, he gasps, “Is this … is this what it’s meant to feel like?” “I don’t know.” I am unable to catch my breath. “I’ve no idea what it’s meant to feel like—but if it’s always like this, how does anyone ever stop?”

“There are far stranger things on this earth by heaven’s design than a Montague desiring a romantic liaison with someone who is not a girl. Romeo … have you never considered that perhaps you are meant to have this happiness?”

No one has ever told me I might deserve to be happy on my own terms, rather than just happy with what I’ve been given. No one has ever told me I might simply deserve to be happy.

Two days ago, I could not think of one thing to look forward to, and now I am dreaming in weeks and months and years.”

“We do not always get to choose the future—sometimes the future simply happens, and we may only choose how we will live with it.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I have no idea what the future will bring, because I’ve not decided it yet. Instead, I choose to float in this happiness, and to imagine all the possibilities that lie ahead—for they are as boundless as the sea.

A story about queer people snatching happiness from the jaws of a world that has been fashioned against them. A tale as old as time. As the shadows deepen, and old ugliness awakes to shake its loathsome head against the peace we’ve fought long and hard for, remember this: We cannot be corrected or contained. We are as boundless as the sea, and we will teach the torches to burn bright.