As I currently write this I am contemplating whether or not my life here on this earth is worth it.
All my life I have been told that my emotions are make believe, attention seeker they’d call me. As they pulled my arm out my sleeve. Thirteen.
Being black and depressed is not an equation with a solution. I’ve been cut from society, mother doesn’t like one friend...boom bye forever. No Social Life.
Teacher: "you seem very put together, like nothing affects you". Wrong. Hiding your emotions are easy when you're taught that they aren't real.
Can’t sleep, well fall in line they say. Sleep anxiety. Everyone hates you, well join the club. High School.
Its funny, I’ve lived a good life as so seemed on the surface. Adultery, scandals, hatreds all used to present ourselves as the perfect Black American Family. But when does it all become too much.
Good grades? Not good enough for a scholarship. Boyfriends? No, they just use you for sex then judge your body right after. You cry yourself to sleep. Must be your period.
No depression. "Well you can't be depressed, you have a good life.". I am human. So many excuses for one problem.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it. The pain, the constant denial of your pain to the ones that ‘’love’’ you.
It makes you question what love really is. What does it feel like. They say some people are incapable of knowing what love is and I think I fall into that line.
Doesn’t matter how big or small your support team is, you’ll still always feel alone. You just want to find that one person. Yourself.
The time I’ve been here has already seemed like enough, but the clocks still tik. Reminding you that you are running out of time.
Birth, elementary school, middle school, high school, college, job, retire, die. It’s the same cycle and if you aren’t up for the ride you are already dead.