When it seems like the world looks at you as if you’re supposed to be a fuck up. When your own parents tell you you’re a fuck up. When nobody believes in yourself… shit gets really hard to handle. It would be much easier to be done with life as I know it. I was supposed to end my life many years ago anyways. The only reason why I’m still here is because I believe in myself. I believe some day soon I’ll be everything I dreamed I would ever be. I believe I’m already becoming what I’m meant to be.

Right now I wish for the whole world to go fuck itself. For everything bad I represent even before I was born, before I had a chance to speak for myself, before they even asked me my name.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about these things. Year after year, day after day, I deal with looks that turn into words and then into actions. I can stand quietly in any corner of any street in the world and I can still ’cause a reaction on most people. Make them tuck their purses, make them smile, make them cross the street, almost never nothing happens. At least not for the past 28 years I’ve been alive.

I feel like my parents should have made my life easier for me growing up. I don’t think they did. I would trade my parents and all the scars they inflicted in my mind just for peace. These scars I try to hide every day. Every fucking day of my life I tell myself “shit is alright”, “shit is going to be better”… I’m tired of talking to myself, padding myself on the back and I don’t want anybody to feel sorry for me either. I just want everything and by now I should have something, but I don’t feel like I do.

And then I think: I shouldn’t even be writing this shit down, ’cause this is how the world is and life doesn’t deal everybody a good hand. If my life was a game of poker I’d say I was dealt a 9 and a 3. A 9 for having parents who stuck together and provided a steady income for the family, and a 3 for being black.

Happy fucking New Year…

Tags: 28 years, game of poker, new year, parents, peace, purses, scars