Carissa's chestnut brown curls bounced relentlessly as she marched with fellow members of the queer community. She yearned for the day in which a march would no longer be necessary. Until then, she marched, she yelled, she stood for those before her who lost the battle, and for those who currently exist in the chaos.

Beads of sweat rolled down her face like tears as the torrid heat rippled off the charcoal pavement. Chants echoed from the silver skyscrapers. The sounds of passion, of love, of unending pride filled the air. A sea of color could be spotted from blocks away.

As they jaunted through the otherwise mundane streets, people from around the world united over the universal purpose of inclusion regardless of status. Couples held tight to their partners, arm in arm, hand in hand. Some clutched posters with words of encouragement, with demands, with affirmations. "Queer is queer, we are here," read a banner braced by a group of glorious drag queens. As they suddenly halted, so did the thousands of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual identifying citizens and their straight allies.

The words "homosexuality is a sin" were scrawled in a blood red spray paint across the walkway. After a two-second pause, the queens started dancing, laughing, hugging, as if their eyes had yet to glance over those sharp letters. "Love is love," they spoke quietly until the phrase roared into existence. Thousands of throats chimed out those words in unison.

That's the whole point of marching for your rights. That's the whole point of expressing pride for yourself and your community. At the end of the day, we are all people who laugh, who love, who live, and what could be better than that?