My Anger

Being an African American person takes the most patience in the world. Every day is another game of who's going to touch my hair today without asking? Who's going to comment on my voice (I don't regularly use ebonics)? Who's going to make a tacky joke about black people being inferior or unintelligent? And after it's said and done, to tell you it's not a big deal because it's just a joke. Who's going to sit in your goddamn passenger seat and rap along with your music and say "nigga" without batting an eye because it's just the lyrics, chill out. 

I am tired. 

The pain I go through as a black person in this shitty ass country is only an afterthought to so many white Americans. I'm tired of my skin color being the butt of your tacky little jokes, of you touching my fucking hair, of having to tell you to not say nigga.

I'm tired of explaining to white people how to not be racist.

And I get it. White people see me and they see me as the beacon of what all black people should be. They hear my voice and think: Oh, she's one of the good ones. Before I shaved my head because I was tired of being imprisoned by my hair, they'd see all sixteen inches of that relaxed mane and think: Wow, she looks so put together for a black girl (then again, of course, they never saw what sixteen years of chemical burns did to my scalp, a good analogy for the increasing self hatred, that seemed to grow every time I got my hair done, due to the overwhelmingly toxic European based feminine beauty ideals that plague America's core). White people see me and they see the eloquently spoken token black sidekick in their favorite childhood Disney shows. They see me as an excuse for their subconscious and deliberate racism because "Look! I have a black friend! Look at how fucking diverse my friend group is!"

The thing is, any regard for the pain of black people has always been an afterthought in America. All of you get to live in a safe little bubble. You wake up and you go about your lives and when you hang out with your friends you don't have to worry about what neighborhood you're in at certain times of day. You don't have to worry about people thinking you're stupid because of your dialect. You don't have to constantly think about how others perceive you. You don't have to worry about people mispronouncing your name for ages and then trying to get you to let them call you something else because they're too fucking lazy to take a crash course in phonetics. At fifteen when you go shopping at the nice mall in the white neighborhood for a change and you want to go into Saks Fifth with your mom and pretend things are okay for a bit, you don't have to worry about the clerk following you around with a hawk eye and that tight lipped fake ass smile. You don't have to deal with any self hatred because of how dark you are, or because you sound different, or because your hair is unmanageable and you don't know how to take care of it because most hair salons don't do natural black hair because once again, beauty ideals in this country are solely based on European features. I am tired!

Google has existed for a little over twenty years, and libraries for centuries. The only way to truly stop racism - I think - is to educate yourselves about black people, and to truly make an effort to understand the struggles black people face every day. Here's a hint: Racism doesn't just exist externally, it's internal too. Read about racism in this country. Read Sojourner Truth, W.E.B Dubois, Ida B Wells, Booker T Washington, Frederick Douglass, Zora Neale Hurston, the list goes on. If American school systems spent as much time brown-nosing Albert Einstein and George Washington on teaching black literature and black history (which is also U.S. History, especially since we fucking made this place the America it is today) things just might start to turn around. The good 10% of me left that still has hope that one day America will truly see African Americans as people and not puppets is what keeps me going, but god is it dwindling, and going fast.

well yeah uh

Eventually my bed won’t smell like you anymore. It’s 12:40 am and I’m drunk and all I can think about is what would have happened if things were different, you know? Like, if we’d dated? I mean maybe it’d have been great but maybe it’d have been really shitty and we wouldn’t be friends anymore, and I don’t want that so hey haha I guess it all worked out but like well, shit back to the poem uh, Originally I wrote I wont miss you like I currently do but eh I still do honestly like, and yeah it took me a long time to not pretend your arms were around me at night by cleverly folding my body pillow but hey I didn’t say that out loud. I’ll come to terms with this eventually. We’ll be able to laugh at it one day! I remember the last time I had a crush this big, when things went to shit I couldn’t even eat. At least it’s not that bad. And you never lied to me, which I really appreciate, so thanks for not lying to me. *High Five*. I remember the day I spent the night beause you wanted me to and it was great. We cuddled almost all night, which was the best (obviously) like, you held me because you wanted to and that made a huge difference because I can tell when you don’t want to like, I always can. Every time I let someone in and they decide they don’t want the whole package, it kinda breaks me a bit. I hate admitting it but hey, it’s true. Nothing super glue can’t fix but you know, sometimes I kinda wonder like, what’s the point of gluing myself back together? Alright so.

Jeremy

I feel better now about you not liking me back. I think I'm getting over you. I didn't even expect anything this time, didn't initiate anything. Neither did you (of course). I think it's finally setting in that this is how things are, and if the way things are includes me being at least friends with you, then I'm okay with that. I'll try to become one of the best friends you've ever had because I think you deserve someone who'll never give up. I know you have friends who probably feel the same about you but hey, now you've got one more. 

Beggar

I hate beggars. I really wish that people wouldn't actually walk to my car and ask me to roll down the fucking window so they can poke their head literally inches away from me and ask if I can buy them a goddamn burger. I can't stop thinking about how creepy the guy was. What if my step dad wasn't with me? :( I'm frightened of people coming to my car now. I'm never stopping to eat in a parking lot again. 

Mom song

I'll hold on to you 

until my fingers turn black and blue.

You're the closest thing that

I have to a muse

I know that I'm hard to guide

I'll fool around and waste my time

Trying to see everything eye to eye

With you

And

It'll never happen

Like you're Fourty, I'm Eleven,

The difference is too grand of a size

But despite the distance,

I sure gotta try.

You're my mom and I love you

Tattoos aren't the end of the world.

I know they look like stains to you

They make you wanna hurl.

I read in an article

Tattoos help the particles

Of bacteria in your body stay in check

But even if I showed you that,

If I got one, you'd say "what the heck".

Carbondale

I miss it.

I don't want to go back.

I feel lost here.

This is home.

I am lonely.

I like being alone.

School sucks.

I want to learn my trade.

I need a job.

I like freedom.

I want money.

I'm lazy.

I am conflicted.

Everything is okay.

Aiden to Hana

How do I tell her I can't stop thinking about her?

That my body literally craves hers,

That she makes my heart pound?

I'd run through broken glass to get to her

I'd take any drug to see her

I'd drink a gallon of vodka

I'd do anything.

Anything.