We

Identity.

Id-entity?

I’d entity?

I had an entity?

I have an entity.

I.

You.

We.

Let’s put a sex on this I. She.

Let’s put a name on her. Rachel.

Let’s put an age on Rachel. 20.

Let’s put a nationality on 20 year old Rachel. American.

Let’s give 20 year old Rachel from America a race. White.

Voila! You have a person with an identity!

Sex, name, age, nationality, race.

I bet you have many other labels too.

We hold on to these labels: he, she, they as if they will somehow define us.

We hold debates, write angry poems, and hold protests on capitalism, nationalism, colonialism and a million other isms as if they will somehow make the pain of our human existence more interesting than “theirs”.

We. I know you don’t like this word.

It makes you uncomfortable; I can see you squirming in your seat already.

It scares you; I can see you forming arguments in your head already.

It makes you afraid, it dissolves the line between you and I, him and her, black and white, Asian and American and makes us.

Tell me friend, are your labels the same ones that weigh down your brain with their countless terminologies and divisions as you struggle to sleep at night?

Do they make you different from that Asian guy in your class when you both reach out for the glass of vodka trying to forget these same definitions?

What makes your need for validation different from those heterosexuals as you both grind against a stranger in drunker stupor?

What makes you different from me when you say water and I say water in different accents when we both sound the same underwater?

We.

I know you’re still afraid of that word.

I know you’re not willing to let go.

I know you’re still clinging to those three words you have been taught- I love you.

I know that you’re terrified that if you let you and I drop, only one word remains.

Love.

And we certainly cannot have that.

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