dy•na•mite |ˈdīnəәˌmīt|
noun
1. An explosive that is made of nitroglycerin absorbed in a porous material and that often contains ammonium nitrate or cellulose nitrate
3. It’s slipping your hand in hers under the table, the thrill of feeling– even just for a while– that this isn’t something you need to keep from everyone else. Hiding is safe. It’s better. You’re going to be fine; love doesn’t need to be loud to be real.
4. It’s the warmth you feel in your heart when you look at her– when sunlight falls beautifully on her face or when she laughs at her own jokes or when her facial expressions change as she reads her favorite book.
5. It’s hiding it. Or at least, trying to. Because it’s difficult when everyone sees it in how you stare at her a second too long, or how you excitedly open text notifications hoping it’s her. It’s in how you can’t shut up about her, it’s thinking of her every time you see a restaurant, or a keychain, or a certain dessert.
6. It’s when you leave your cellphone open to your pictures on the kitchen table. It’s when you trust the wrong friend. It’s when you link your hands as you walk down the street, not noticing a pastor from your local chapel walk by. It’s a phone call to your parents.
7. The fuse has been lit and you’re on your way to ruination.
out•side |ˈoutˈsīd|
noun
1. Situated or moving beyond the boundaries of (a room, building, or other enclosed space)
2. Beyond the limits or scope of
3. It’s sitting at a different table. It’s beating yourself up over how you can’t stand up to your parents. It’s succumbing to pleasing them at the price of your happiness, at the price of getting rid of what–or who, rather– is bringing all the light to your life.
4. It’s the devastation in realizing how unfixable this is, in realizing that there’s no going back. It’s realizing you made the mistake of building homes out of people.
5. It’s hiding it– the anguish, the misery, everything. Or at least, trying to. Because it’s difficult when you’re acing your classes but you feel like crying when her favorite song comes on, or when you see her name on your Twitter timeline. It’s difficult to always be fidgeting with the key chains on your house keys, recalling the stories behind why she got you each one. It’s difficult when you’re always subconsciously ordering cheese flavored ice cream just because it was her favorite. You don’t even like cheese flavored ice cream.
6. It’s the silence taking the place of conversation on the dinner table. It’s walking in the cafeteria to see her sitting with her friends, still as beautiful as when you first saw her. It’s catching her eye when you’re walking down the corridor and forcing yourself to look away.
7. She refuses to let you in again. You understand.
con•vic•tion |kəәnˈvik sh əәn|
noun
1. The quality of showing that one is firmly convinced of what one believes or says
2. An unshakable belief in something without need for proof or evidence
3. Will you be okay?
4. Will you be okay?
5. Will you be okay?
6. Will you be okay?
7. You’ll be okay.
re•hab |ˈrēˌhab|
noun
1. a course of treatment for drug or alcohol addiction, typically at a facility in which the patient is compelled to reside for a period of several weeks or months
2. a course of treatment, largely physical therapy, designed to reverse the debilitating effects of an injury
3. You wrote your last poem about her two weeks ago.
4. Her name is far down your search history.
5. You have a tub of chocolate ice cream in your freezer.
6. Your heart is a house and you’re finally, finally changing the locks.
7. You’re getting better. You’re getting better.
