Fly Away.

"Your feet may leave home, but your heart never will." That was the theme of this year's graduation at my high school-- the graduation I was supposed to be taking part in but wasn't allowed because one of my parents refused to allow me to graduate early.

But not being allowed to graduate doesn't stop me from going to the commencement ceremony and seeing all of my friends, some old and some new, enter a new phase in their lives, some of them leaving forever.

My friends Steph and Brandon, as well as my infamous ex TJ, are all leaving for the military extremely soon. TJ leaves in September, Steph with him, for the Air Force training base in Texas. Brandon gets shipped out in less than a month for Marine Corps basic training. He enlisted as active, so as soon as he's done, they're shipping him out to parts unknown, ready to be used as a pawn and most likely die for a tumultuous and hypocritical cause.

Most of my friends are going to college, and they're goig to be doctors, mechanical engineers.

Out of the class of 147 students, six of the women had babies this year. Two boys are rumored to have fathered children by girlfriends from other schools.

And through it all, they haven't lost hope. They haven't lost their home. Some of them will remain in that little backwards town for their whole lives, not bothering to see the world. Some will be forced to see it through the sight of a sniper rifle.

As long as these friends whom I love dearly still have a place in my mind or in my heart, they will always be home in some way, shape, or form.

So why I am I so depressed? It is unlikely I will ever hear from some of them again. It's just what happens when everyone goes their separate ways. I should be happy that they're all following their dreams, right?

We are such selfish creatures. A small part of my mind can't help but scream "They're leaving me!" but I know that's not true in the way my mind wants me to believe. They are going ahead with their lives, following their hearts. Selfish me wants to keep them all to myself. I can't let myself listen to that part of me.

I realize that this post is rather convoluted and disjointed, but it has been an odd week. Today was my last day of school. Exams are over, and I enter my second year as a senior in high school, after having spent the majority of my junior year with senior status due to my cirriculum.

I am not a member of my graduating class.Not in the sense that everyone thinks of it, anyway. I have toed the line separating the grades a little too closely. I have lost touch with my peers because I was too busy moving up the ranks academically. Since I wasn't a junior I wasn't allowed to take part in any of their activities. Since I wasn't graduating with the seniors even though I was one of them, it was pointless to participate with them.

I was in no man's land, literally and figuratively. In the formative years of high school, that gets kind of difficult. You're not sure where you're supposed to go.

Which is also the story of my life outside of school. In the small town where I live, there is a serious defecit in lesbian minded women around my age. But, I don't find men completely unattractive (though considering my past esxperiences you would think that I would carry a hatred of phalluses)and so I don't limit myself. I've been in love with men, and I've been in love with women.

Love just complicates things. Expecially in today's society here in the US, where my love doesn't always toe the line. Gay marriage is still illegal in my home state, and in too many states. I cannot safely have an out relationship in my own without fearing for my life or that of my partner. My generation may be as a whole more accepting, but barely. We still don't have the level of acceptance or even TOLERANCE that we need to have in order to function.

Thus my status in no-man's land. I cannot fully embrace who I am because there are risks that I'm not willing to put others in the face of. I have no cares for my own well-being. If I die because I love women then I'm fully accepting of that. It would be horrible to put others through that, but it would send a message, one that needs to be heard, though it would be better represented without the shedding of blood.

Malcolm X said it well. "If you think I'll bleed nonviolently, you'll be sticking me for the rest of my life. But if I tell you I'll fight back, there will be less blood."

Although his policies on gaining equality were controversial at best, the essence of his message is true.

I can nonviolently protest and stand up for my rights without lifting a finger, but if it comes to the physical safety of those I love, don't expect me to stand back and let it happen.

I guess it is in this way you could call me a hypocrite, and call all of us peace-mongerers hypocrites. We tout peace and an end to war, but when you get down to the nitty-gritty of it, those same peace-soldiers are getting into altercations all over the world. the desire for self preservation is not something we can shed ourselves of so easily. We open our mouths, and out come words of peace, and also words of war. We declare war on war, and in essence, choose the noviolent but verbally violent path of resistance.

Long gone it seems are the true paths created by Gandhi and the other great peacemakers of the world. We weild words like weapons. Although we do not kill physically, we wound the soul with the hatred of hatred that we carry within us.

We can protest all we want, but we are all hypocritical when it comes to peace.

You can desire for the conflict between Israel and Palestine to end all you want. You can will the people in Darfur to stand up for themselves. You can urge slaves and indentured servants to rise up against those who dare proclaim themselves lords and masters. All the desire in the world doesn't change the fact that the road to peace is often paved with war.

Martyrs for peace are all too common. Too many people have died at the hands of oppression. Too many have died in the face of oppression, in protest of oppression. And yet, we call for nonviolence, when a majority of the world seems incapable of doing anything nonviolently.

We are in an age when flash gets more attention than meaning. You can protest in front of Nike and other companies, desiring an end to the oppression of workers overseas, but it can't be ignored that a fist fight at that protest will gain much more press than a simple sit-in or picket line. Weapons gain more press than words. This country is so desensetized to the true meaning behind action and lack of action that we can't follow our own peace, because the only way we can get peace noticed is to become violent.

You rarely hear on daily news in free and peaceful lands that the country is at peace. You don't hear about lack of conflict. Instead, you hear inane and banal stories that you don't appreciate for what they are. What really impassions you is oppression. When you're fighting a war for oil overseas, you hear about it on the evening news. "X people were killed today in Kuwait/ Iran/ China." You don't hear the good things. "The US didn't bomb anyone today." If you are only informed of the negativity, how can you learn about peace?

It's all so contradictory, hyprocritcal, idiotic, whatever you wish to call it.

But we can't ignore it anymore.

It doesn't matter if you're leaving home or not, we need to stand up right where we are. Home is where the heart is, and if your heart of hearts is fighting for peace, then we'll never feel entirely at ease in our homes.