You Have the Right to Fall in Love
You Have the Right to Fall in Love
You have the right to fall in love. With a person, a place, a thing, a book, a fandom…
You have the right to fall in love with Paris at night,
and the sounds of tourist kids squealing with delight outside Notre Dame.
You have the right to drink red wine as deep and rich as your hurt and your hopes.
You have the right to fall in love with that scene in “Juno” when she and Bleeker kiss.
You have the right to unironically watch “Mean Girls” for the tenth time this school year and laugh at the “Jingle Bell Rock” scene.
You have the right to cry when Gus tells Hazel of a Christmas tree, and keep crying inconsolably for three days because no one understands unless they too have read that scene.
You have the right to music.
To fall in love with Lorde’s husky whispers
and Sia’s desperate yearning
and yes, even Taylor’s sugary earworms.
You have the right to fall in love with songs that remind you
of first kisses
and second crushes
and third dates.
You have the right to stay up all night listening to Fall Out Boy because that one night that broke your heart was worth it.
You have the right to fall in love with tastes.
Strawberry Fruit Roll-Ups,
powdered donuts,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
Papa John’s pizza,
and even pumpkin spice lattes.
You have the right to drink Cherry Coke during class
and vodka after class
and sneak glances at your phone while your friend is venting because you know your crush will text this time.
You have the right to expect ice cream sundaes to be delicious, and friends to say yes to frozen pizza at 3 AM, and your heart to break and heal and break again.
You have the right to be loved.
You have the right to read “Anna and the French Kiss” and “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” and picture yourself being wooed and held and imagined about.
You have the right to feel. To feel when Lara Jean misses Margot and when Tris meets Four and when Harry realizes he will die. You have the right to feel, to feel, to feel
You have the right to fall in love.
With shows your friends don’t watch,
and movies you thought were lame,
and the pool riff-off scene in “Pitch Perfect”
and “Bitch Planet”
and “Ms. Marvel”
and “The Breakfast Club.”
You have the right to wander bookstores for hours,
and eat pie without your mom shaming you,
and to make your own damn decisions because how else will you know yourself?
You have the right to fall in love
with experiences, with days, with dreams, with hopes and desires and wishes unspoken.
You have the right to buy everything in your heart even if not with your credit card.
To look at those rag & bone boots and those DSQUARED2 jeans and that Zac Posen dress and know that they knew you and you knew them and it was mutual love.
You have the right to air opinions without being shouted down
and explore a city without being catcalled
and ride a subway without being harassed
and share a book recommendation without eyerolls.
You have the right to fall in love with the way your hair twists and falls when you sleep on it funny
and the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy
and your shampoo that smells like flowers and rain and abandon.
You have many rights
to be heard, to be valued, to be treasured, to be left alone
to be supported, published, admired, and not have personal space infringed or time imposed on
to create, try, fail, pursue, buy, give, and receive.
You have the right to make your day wonderful. You have the right to hear and be heard. You have the right to enjoy and mourn and cry. You have the right to experience.
You have the right to fall in love.
loudlysilent writes at loudlysilent.com and Twitter: @loudlysilent.
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