"I Love It Here," by Andrea Gibson

You can read Gibson’s celebrated post, from which this poem is excerpted, here.

I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do.

I just wanna do everything. Kiss

the mirror when my friends are looking in it.

Hug the trees that have fallen to the earth.

Breathe out and let luck handle the rest.

I’m not here to argue with my destiny.

When I say I’m raising my voice,

I mean I’ve been listening, and I don’t

listen with anybody else’s ears anymore,

even though the world keeps insisting

I should. I don’t see with anybody else’s

eyes, either. No, I’m not wearing

rose colored glasses. I’m just refusing

to ignore the thorn’s red heart.

What hurts me doesn’t only hurt me, understand?

The kingdom of heaven is within us.

So is the kingdom of hell. That’s how I learned

to turn gratitude into a fire extinguisher.

Sunday school taught me the scariest thing

about hell would be burning for eternity.

The other kids were afraid of the burning.

I was afraid of anything happening forever.

Even as a kid I knew god was change.

Knew the afterlife wouldn’t be a ghost town.

Knew player pianos only exist on earth. Infinity

would never dream of repeating a song.

In the next realm no one wants anything

that once happened to happen again,

no matter how good it was. The best part

of this life would be cut from heaven’s team.

When I was 18 years old my philosophy

teacher said, “Our deepest human desire

is to be known.” But to know people, truly,

I have to first unknow them. It’s a portal to love –

to quit seeing people through the lens

of who we think they are and start experiencing

them instead. When you’re ready to be surprised

by someone, you’re surprised by them all the time.

Everyday they become a new planet.

I want nothing in my wardrobe but a space suit.

“You can walk through life believing everything

is a miracle,” Julie said, paraphrasing Einstein,

“Or you can walk through life believing

nothing is a miracle.” Whatcha gonna choose?

“Everything is a miracle!” I say like I’ve known it

my whole life. But I didn’t. Why did I go so long

believing I owed this world my disappointment

in what it has to offer?

“I hate it here,” writes every other person on twitter.

I love it here. “I love it here,” I whisper to the sky

at 1am, standing on my upstairs porch wearing

nothing but my space suit. “I love it here” I whisper

into my doctor’s stethoscope, so she can hear

my heart.

+ Andrea Gibson