It's not one big thing.
It's not even several big things. It's like a bunch of little things, ever-changing. Things you can't keep up with. Things you can't keep in your grasp. And they make you feel like you're drowning, like you're suffocating. And you're scared. So, you open your mouth. But you can't scream. You can't yell, or plea, or beg. Because you have no right. You have no reason to suffer. Yet you do. You suffer. And it's all those things, those little things that pile up. They overwhelm you. You can't control it. You don't even know what they are half of the time. They're there, and then they're gone. But they linger. And you suffer. Yet you can't scream. Because you don't feel like you have the right. Because you don't think anyone will care. When the truth is You don't care. Because you can scream. But you won’t. And you keep suffering. And you sit silently staring at a wall, Beginning to wonder, How can anyone save me? How can anyone hear me scream? If I never even opened my mouth to begin with?
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IN RESPONSE TO THE COUP At Capitol Hill, BLM CREATED A LIST OF DEMANDSAnd you should co-sign! It's crucial that we let our lawmakers know how outraged and upset we are by their lack of action following the chaos at the United States Capitol building on Wednesday January 6, 2021. We must also make it clear how dismayed and shocked we all were to witness the lack of action and presence law enforcement took at the time the Capitol was stormed by armed and angry white supremacists. Or as President Joe Biden stated, "... the mob of thugs..." It's not enough that Steven Sund, former Capitol Police Chief, resigned on Thursday January 7 following the attack on the U.S. Capitol. It's not enough that Twitter permanently suspended former President Donald Trump's personal twitter account on Friday January 8 following the riots he incited in his supporters. It's not enough that only thirteen people have been charged in Federal court (and approximately 40 charged in the Superior Court) for crimes committed at the Capitol building when there were at least a couple thousand people present and hundreds of them illegally entered the U.S. Capitol. All the while, Walter Wallace Jr. was brutally shot on October 26, 2020 in front of his own mother because police officers were more afraid of his blackness than they were willing to help a man suffering through a mental health crisis. We must put pressure on those whom we have elected to serve us, hear us, and protect us to make the decisions that suit EVERY American, not just white people. If you believe in equality, and I mean truly believe in it, then use the voice you have to speak up and say something! Do not be passive. Do not be blind. And, most importantly, do not pass on the opportunity to make change happen because you assume someone else will do it for you. What happened on Wednesday was a direct attack on Black Americans. It was a direct attack on Muslim Americans. It was a direct attack on Latinx Americans. It was a direct attack on Asian Americans. It was a direct attack on LGBTQIA+ Americans. It was a direct attack on Native Americans. It was a direct attack on Jewish Americans. And it was a direct attack on American women. If we learned anything from the events that took place on January 6, 2021, it's that you are only safe from police force and the law if you are a white supremacist. The Mexican children who were deliberately kept from their parents for weeks on end whilst being locked in jail-like cages at the US-Mexico border were not so lucky. The 226 Black Americans shot and killed by police officers in 2020 were not so lucky, and neither were their families. The Muslim Americans who are banned from flying because they are not complying with "white culture" are not so lucky. The Native Americans whose land is being stolen from them still whilst being belittled, ignored, and not acknowledged for their importance in American culture and what they and their ancestors have created for us to all exist today are not and were not so lucky. So all I have left to say at this point is that we all need to be better and do better. And to make it easier, you can start right here by clicking the button below. But beyond that, the rest is up to you. You must do the research. You must do the reading. You must do the watching and the listening and the learning. Take action, take accountability, and make a change. To read the list and sign your name, please click the button below.
Edited on January 20, 2021
Sometimes I feel like a zombie, aimlessly wandering through the night.
Darkness falls upon me as if it were blankets of dynamite. Heavy, heavy danger yet familiar, comforting unease. A loneliness I long for in the wake of my reprieve. I stare ahead at the nothingness that I begrudgingly drift towards. Quietude surrounds my struggling thoughts that are whisked away, ignored. Ticking hands sweep at absent time, my heart rate dangerously slows. All the while trapped within a shell, empty despite my lying soul. A voice attacks my inner ear, calling my name with concern. "Are you okay?" They ask, disturbed but trusting they will be consoled. What happens next? Wouldn't you like to know. And me? Well, so would I. But too little left to care or remember what words I used to lie. Are you that way, cold and hollow, ever trapped and calm? Dare I say at peace within oneself, yet fearful of being stuck? Stuck in this life, this void, this emptiness. Nothing no longer felt. No matter the effort you muster to escape, those are the cards you have been dealt. And although you feel like your glued to one spot, those hands of strife keep ticking. Sweeping at hours, minutes, and seconds - time you could have spent living. Because here I sit - still and unmoving like a zombie passing through the night. My flesh not rotting, myself still human, but a corpse undead am I. Greetings Mr. Man. Sit down, make yourself comfortable,
Because I am about to suck you into my scary underworld. A place so dark and chilling that you never knew existed. A place even more frightening for those of us who are not Caucasian. The world in which I live is vastly different from yours. It is an existence reduced to caution, proof, fear, and locked doors. You look at me confused now, as if I am being dramatic, But the truth is that we are all good actors, and I’m simply just being pragmatic. All you care is that I’m legal, that I’m white, but I’m a girl, So there goes my higher status on your stupid totem pole. There goes my rights to choose, my rights to speak, to act insane. All that matters to you now is my ass and not my brain. Sure, men fought for freedom, that I know to be true, But women did not just stand by, we played a role too. Nurses when you needed us. Mothers – not always by choice. Left behind to raise your children. No small task to be rejoiced. Women hoped to raise them well, with morals and respect. She prayed that she taught them how to love, forgive and protect, And simply because she is a woman in this tragic world, She knows how to put up a fight, fighting solely to be heard. A fight like no other that she ignites in her child. Fighting for our rights, for our freedoms undefiled. You wonder why men are supposedly seen as “superior?” Well ask the one who raised them, I’m sure she will make it quite clear. Since she is the one who does the work then why can’t she just have a say? With her body, with her voice, with her job, with her pay. She works so hard to get ahead with every chance that she gets, But unfortunately for her, she does not have a dick. See according to some people on this godforsaken earth You must have one thing to get what you deserve. But do not be mistaken, you must be born with it. Forget a transition, Because if you are not biologically a man you have no ammunition. Her body is hers and her alone. It does not belong to you. Yeah, her body creates a life, but do not forget she has one too. It starts with her precious heart pumping blood throughout her body And extends into her soul, one of which all men should envy. So, let me ask you something, not a favor but a question: What makes you think you have the right to another human’s body? What makes you think you have the right to how someone loves another? What makes you think you are better than someone because your skin is a different color? How do you have all these rights to all these choices and decisions? And why are you the only one who can have a voice and big ambitions? Why is it that you think you are better just because you are a man? Tell me, please! I’m begging you. I truly do not understand. One more thing, before we go. A question if you don’t mind? Does it scare you: potentially losing power and being left behind? Does the thought of being raped of rights make you feel unsafe? Terrified to walk the streets alone, praying for God’s precious grace. Here is the thing though, I do not care what your answer is to me, Because as long as men are answering for us, none of us are free. And until all voices can be heard and equally represented Humanity can never move forth in this “one-man-world” dimension. So, if you think that this is right, if you think this is okay Then you are severely mistaken, Mr. Man. You really are insane. The world in which I live, the one I just took you to Is no place for any human to exist, but I can make an exception for you. Dear white people, Racial inequality has been an issue in America for a disturbing amount of time, specifically four centuries, and as much as some of us would like to believe that the abolishment of slavery freed all black Americans from the trauma they endured by the hands of white people, there's no escaping the truth. Slavery may have ended, but the deep, psychological fear and harm done to slaves hundreds of years ago has been passed down in black families from generation to generation. Given recent events involving black Americans and police officers in our country, many people across the world have become privy to the severity of racial injustice and abuse that enslaves the lives of all black Americans. And in some ways, this pandemic has been a blessing in disguise, because it has granted many Americans the time to fight for an issue that has been in the works for centuries. However, it is frustrating and disheartening to see just how many people have woken up to the reality of injustice done to black Americans simply because they were sitting at home with nothing better to do than finally notice the not-so-rare crime committed to an innocent person because of the color of his skin. In no way should the efforts of these white people be minimized as they are now starting to take steps to learn how to be better and unlearn their biased behavior, thoughts and opinions that have been passed on to them. However, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say how disappointed and confused I am at the people who have decided that now they want to care, and now they want to fight for equality and justice as if racism began the moment George Floyd was murdered by Derek Chauvin on May 25 of this year. I feel angry. I feel stupid. I feel irritated. But mostly, I feel ashamed. And I know, as a white person, that what I feel is nothing compared to how black people feel right now. And I know, as a white person, that my frustrations that have recently surfaced about racial inequality are not important until I am actively using them to make a change, because as a white person, I haven't suffered my whole life from discrimination based solely on the color of my skin. I feel embarrassed for myself and others who have taken a back seat to these issues, knowing full well that they have existed for centuries, and have decided now is the time to speak up just because everyone else is. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m writing this letter in light of recent events, and that if they had never happened, this letter wouldn’t exist. But that is exactly why I am writing this. I have contributed to the problem through my silence, and I don’t want to be complacent any longer. Having conversations over the years with my family and friends isn’t good enough, and I want to be better. As a white person, I am taking responsibility for my role in systemic racism. We all have to accept the fact that our silence and lack of willingness to learn about and acknowledge black culture has only added to the oppression of black people in America. "There comes a time when silence is betrayal." -Martin Luther King, Jr. I cannot understand how some white Americans may not have realized just how big of a problem this is in our country until now. I don’t care if you never watch the news or check social media or go on the internet. I don’t care if you have only ever lived in a white bubble, surrounded by white people and white neighborhoods, white schools and white walls. Those aren’t excuses for your ignorance – they can’t be, because not seeing the problem isn’t due to a lack of information fed to you. It is a direct effect of you actively choosing to turn a blind eye to grave injustices that are constantly impacting the lives of your fellow Americans and fellow human beings. We don’t get to just decide that now we should be concerned about racial inequality because something terrible has happened (again), and it seems “trendy” to post a black square on our Instagrams in solidarity. We don’t get to choose when racism is or is not a systemic problem in our country, because as white people, we have the privilege to walk away and exist in a world in which racism never touches us. But guess what? Black people can’t just stop being black. They can’t peel off their skin every time they get in their car to drive somewhere or walk into a store or even do something as menial as walk down the street. It is crucial that we fight alongside our black brothers and sisters one hundred percent of the time. No matter what. With all of that being said, as a white American, I am privileged. I am allowed a life in which I am treated with more respect, decency, and promise than those who in every aspect of their lives are my equal, but are not treated as such due to the color of their skin. White privilege is a tough pill for many white Americans to swallow, and the term, unfortunately, is widely misunderstood by those who need to understand it the most. But in order to do so, all biases need to be set aside, all guilt needs to be stored away, and all urges to defend white people need to be stifled. White privilege is not about how white people are bad or how white people don’t have struggles and hardships or even about how white people are higher up in the hierarchy of the racial totem pole, even though it has been made clear throughout America’s history that that is and was believed to be true by many Americans alive and passed. White privilege acknowledges the fact that white people get to live in a world that is more so catered to their needs, wants, opportunities, and desires because they have white skin. As a white person, I am able to walk into a store and find an entire wall full of shampoos made specifically for my hair type. I don’t ever worry about getting pulled over while driving my car, even when I’m speeding down the highway. I have never once felt paranoid when walking into a store out of fear of being watched, and I have certainly never had to make sure my hands were always visible so that no one thinks I am going to steal something. When I was a child, my parents never taught me what to do if I were to ever be approached by a police officer, because if I, as a white woman in America, were to ever be approached by a cop in my life, the chances of that cop arresting me or harming me because of the color of my skin are zero. White privilege is not about how white people live better lives than everyone else around them because they are white. It is a term that exists to explain to white people how privileged we are to live in a world where we are not unfairly judged, attacked, feared, assaulted, arrested, abused, wrongly convicted and murdered simply because of the color of our skin. Every life should be important and valuable. Every life should be precious and protected, and every life should be equally significant. But they’re not – not all of them. Mine is, because I am white. And that right there, is white privilege, and it is just as much a part of the systemic racism in this country as actual racism is. Our white ancestors chose hundreds of years ago to come to this country, but the ancestors of black Americans did not. They were captured like animals and ripped from their homes and their land. They were packed like sardines on disease ridden ships that took a treacherous journey across an ocean, a journey in which some of them didn’t even survive. Eventually, they arrived in a place where they were then auctioned off based on their physical strength or capability to bear children or ability to work the land or serve in a household. They were sold to white people who used them to profit off the very land we walk on every day. And all the while they had no freedom. They were stripped of their faith, religion, name, and history. As white people, we need to acknowledge what happened hundreds of years ago in order to fully understand the problems this country faces today. We need to learn about the events that took place in between slavery and George Floyd. We need to know about the people who fought and the people who died for racial equality. And we need to do our part to add our names to that list. It’s not enough to say, “I have black friends, therefore I am not a racist," because your black friends don’t exist as proof that you are not a racist. In fact, you having black friends doesn't prove anything about who you are as a person. You need to practice being antiracist regardless of who your friends are and who you know, and you can’t just be passively okay with yourself and your role in this movement simply because you treat everyone equally. Or at least because you think you do, because everyone is not treated equally. And most importantly, do not expect a pat on the back or a gold star for doing the work you and we should have been doing all along. No praise is needed for simply doing the right thing. "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." -Martin Luther King, Jr. Antiracism is a practice. It’s an effort that you have to make every day to actively choose to be a better person. You’re going to mess up, you’re going to make mistakes, and you’re going to say and do the wrong thing. But that’s just part of being human, and sometimes that is what it takes to be a good one. You can’t grow to be better until you’ve done something to grow from, and it’s what you do with the opportunity to learn that proves what kind of human you are. I know I’ve unintentionally said racist things before. How could I not? I’m human. We have all done it, regardless of the color of our skin. But that doesn’t make me, or you, or any of us a bad person. And I know that I have learned from my mistakes and won’t make the same ones again. I also know, however, that I will continue to make mistakes and say the wrong thing. All I can do is try my best one hundred percent of the time and know that with that, I will fuck up, because I cannot be perfect one hundred percent of the time. "You must never be fearful about what you are doing when it is right." -Rosa Parks I had to take time over the past month or so to process everything that is happening in the world right now. Not only are we dealing with a pandemic, but we are now faced with a civil rights movement that has rapidly gained [long overdue] recognition and acknowledgement. I’ve spent countless hours listening, reading, watching, and learning to better understand racism, the Black Lives Matter movement, white privilege, and much more. I’ve been silent on social media throughout all of this because I didn’t know what to say or how to say what I was feeling. I’m also not self-centered enough in thinking that the world cares if I post something online, and I never felt the need to publicly prove my allyship with the movement. However, I don’t want to be silent, and once I was able to figure out what I wanted and needed to say, I took the time (and hours) to do so. I have also always wanted to be genuine in everything I do, but especially with a matter such as this one, and that is why I didn’t participate in posting a black square on my Instagram. I understand the intention behind it, but at the time, it felt a bit trendy to me. It felt like a minuscule step to take in proving one’s solidarity with black people and the Black Lives Matter movement. Again, I didn’t personally feel like posting a black square on my Instagram felt genuine to me and who I am, so I didn’t do it. To say black lives matter is not to take away from the significance of other human’s lives, it is to say that black people’s lives matter too. When the Boston Marathon bombing took place on April 15, 2013, and the hashtag, “bostonstrong” developed, citizens of Philadelphia weren’t fighting back saying, “what about Philly? Don’t we matter too?” And if they did, they’d be rightfully chastised. Does every human life matter? Of course. But for too long, this country has made it clear that white lives are protected and seemingly more important than everyone else’s, and that is unacceptable. We need change. We need reform. And we need to do everything in our power to fight for equality for all humans, no matter their skin color, gender, sexuality, religion, or disabilities. Don’t be color blind. Don’t take pride in your carelessness. Acknowledge the differences amongst us. Recognize how the color of your skin impacts your life differently from someone else’s. Be willing to learn. And be ready to listen. Black Lives Matter. Period.
We are lions, we are prides, we are the same
They live to survive, we live for the game They’re born in hopes of making it passed their cub days We’re born in hopes of growing to be old and gray A lioness protects her cubs from being eaten alive Mommy dearest keeps us safe from the harsh world outside They hunt to kill and kill to eat We work to earn a paycheck each passing week They all sleep beneath trees to shelter the weather In beds we all lie beneath a roof, together To protect their pride, they need strength and courage For us to raise a good child, it takes a village They do nothing but moil for tomorrow’s sunrise We grind on the daily for rent and our food supply They combat starvation and coalitions nearby We fight for our freedoms to live and to die We are lions, we are prides, we are them, but tame Like them, we live to survive each passing day My ribs cave into my chest as my heart grows two times too big,
Pounding, banging, and pushing its way out, it is becoming a regular gig. I sit. I breathe. I close my eyes and tell myself everything is fine. But it only gets worse, the shrinking and growing, because I do not believe my own lie. The panic starts when I hear of you, your issues, and your pain. It strikes me hard in my chest and sucks me down like a drain. I love you very, very much, but you are extremely ill. You will never want to help yourself though, you would rather just take a pill. The day we went over to your house to help you clean it up Is the day I saw, experienced, and realized how sick you really are. I thought I knew what was wrong with you and what was going on, But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to stumble upon. It is like when you are a kid sitting at the top of the monkey bars, And your friends yell up at you to jump and become a superstar. But the nerves kick in, you overthink, and suddenly you are on a bridge Staring down at rushing water flowing through a great, big ridge. You think it is a long way down and scary as all hell. You take a deep breath in, about to jump, but then you hear the bell. Recces is over and so is your fear as you climb down the long ladder, And you have no idea that tomorrow you will jump, and your tiny kid leg will shatter. I thought I knew how bad things were. I thought I had it right. But when I jumped from the bars, off went the dynamite. I may not have broken a bone, but I did not walk away unscathed. Something broke deep inside of me and left me in a daze. Four hours of pushing the machine that sucks up all the dirt. Four hours in one room alone, alone with all my hurt. Hurt for which I did not know ever existed at all. Hurt that stung like a fresh cut being cleaned with alcohol. Just cleaning up the physical mess that was left from many years Made me see the decades of mess that lied beyond your ears. I was not just a scared little kid a top some monkey bars, Afraid of jumping off the metal and crawling away with scars. The jump was not the scary part, or falling to the soil. It was getting there in my mind, the feeling of great turmoil. So, I jumped, and I landed, but I bruised up real good. And you will never notice. I do not think you ever could. The love you have for your family is undeniably clear, But the faith and respect you have for them has never and will never be there. You would rather live in your own, stupid bubble of pain and misery. You would rather suffer your life away and do it bitterly. Like I said before, I love you very much, But you are your own monkey bars that you will never touch. You will never go near them or dare speak their name. You will not even acknowledge they are there. It is like a sick little game. And because of all that, you will never be at the top Finding yourself looking down and scared to make the hop. You will never have the chance to choose whether or not to jump, Because you will not even admit they are there. You will never speak up. And while that is all nice and dandy for you in this moment Those you love undeniably are waiting for your atonement. Most of us leapt from our monkey bars, although we tried to hang on. And I am terrified that when you try to climb up, your monkey bars will be gone. The room is silent. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing and your slightly tempered heartbeat in the back of your head. Your nostrils flair as your vision shivers away from the floor. The hand in front of you pulls out a brick filled with pages as thin as a butterfly’s wing. It’s got a hard black surface with two gold words etched across the cover, “The Bible”. As your eyes read the words, your stomach sinks and the nausea floods back.
You lift your hand in slow motion because you already know what must be done. Shallow breathing turns to deep breaths of air – enough to inflate your lungs that are trying so hard to work against nature. You lick your chapped lips and speak, “I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God”. You slip your hand away from the book and place it in your lap. Many eyes flutter around the room and sit with anticipation. The process that is about to occur happens daily in America. It’s a justice system that filters the guilty from the innocent. It’s a way to keep the good people of this country safe from the bad. And it all starts with an oath to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. You must be honest to the people of this country, so America can uphold its high standards of freedom and justice. But, you cannot just make a promise to your country, you must make a promise to God. Because God sees all and knows all. Because God is the one being you must never lie to for that is considered a sin. Because apparently this country is built upon God and faith as well as freedom. Freedom, that is, to choose our own sexuality, president, faith and religion, and be equal with everyone else. Let me give an example: Sexuality: capacity for sexual feelings; a person’s sexual orientation or preference. We have the freedom to choose our own sexuality. It is a right that every single citizen of the United States of America has. But for some reason, it is not okay to come out and admit that you are not straight. It should not have to be hard to tell the world who you really are and how you really feel. You should be able to do it and not be afraid of being judged or shunned. Leviticus 18:22 – You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination. Hundreds of years ago, people were hung, stoned, or drowned because they liked their same sex. It’s not like someone said, “Hey! That’s not okay. Let’s make sure that for the rest of time society hates homosexuals.” People aren’t born to be haters. In fact, you aren’t born with any preconceived thoughts or beliefs. You aren’t even born with fear. People are groomed from the day they are born. Your parents raise you to have morals and values, and it is not until you are old enough to truly comprehend what all of those mean that you can then start to have your own thoughts and beliefs, which is why the idea of homosexuality being wrong had to have come from somewhere. The Bible and Christianity has been around for centuries. Our Founding Fathers obviously believed in the Bible and what it stood for. Their faith and religion was important to them, which is why they chose to let Americans practice whatever religion they wanted and allowed them to have something just as important for themselves. However, they based their beliefs, and ultimately this country’s beliefs, off what they thought was right, which was the Bible. The Bible – the thing that has been around for centuries, remember? The thing that has teachings in it that date back so many years that some people make a living off it with occupations devoted to the study of the language in which it was written so that they can tell us what it all means today. The men who put the laws, rules, and standards of this country together used their own beliefs to form all of it. They were not born thinking that being gay was wrong, they grew up practicing a religion that told them it was wrong. They grew up believing what was taught to them and used all that information to form their own opinions and beliefs. Now I’m not saying that the Bible is wrong or that Christianity is wrong. My point is that the men who put the constitution together, who created the foundation and basis of this country, were influenced by something that was important to them that is nearly three thousand years old. It is crazy to think that our beloved home and country is still running based on ideas that are almost three thousand years old while we can’t even keep up on the newest model of the iPhone. How can we expect to grow and develop as a country and society when we’re still trying to function off amendments written in 1787? Why do people still think it’s right to use the Bible as a convincing factor that someone will tell the truth. I mean no hate or judgement, but I don’t give a damn about the Bible. What makes a court think that me, an agnostic, is going to tell the truth just because you place a Bible in front of me and make me say a few words. Obviously, I wouldn’t sit in a court room and lie, but the Bible is not what’s making me tell the truth. Think about this – we’re living in a country whose constitution tells us, “No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.” In what scenario, in 2018, is that ever going to apply? When are we, as Americans, ever going to have to give our consent to house a soldier because they need a place to stay during a time of peace? This is from the same constitution that gives every American the right to bear arms. Now, I’m not saying I agree or disagree with this because my opinion on the matter isn’t important. However, I would like to point out that this specific amendment was written during a time when it was necessary to own guns. If Americans didn’t have, own, or use guns at the time this was written to fight for their independence and freedom then there would be no America today. All of that aside, I don’t get why the Bible is so relevant to today’s America. I don’t understand why Congress must pray before a session. I personally don’t pray, and I don’t practice any religion in which I would ever pray for anything, so why must this country single out all the people like myself and basically say, “Sorry, but we’re doing it anyway.” I thought I had the right to choose my own religion and faith, so why do I have to conform to something I don’t believe in just because it now has to do with politics and the way my country is run. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of America? If God is so damn important to America, then why don’t we just have him run our country? In order to promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth you have to make an oath to the lord. Tell me, is that really freedom? Is that really a democracy? Is that really the way we run this country? It was the second time in my life I had seen a human’s face
So small and pale in a casket, the final resting place. The first was when I was young, and my memory was not keen. The second time I was older, and I remember everything. The smells of all the people who were hugging with streaming tears Searching eyes looking around for you, the man who is no longer here. The third is the day it happened, when we all said our goodbyes To a man who changed and influenced lives, one of which was mine. I did not know you well and I did not know you long But somehow that did not change my love for you, for it was very strong. You always said I love you, and you always knew why And I always said it back, without having to blink an eye. Yet somehow when I stood up to read a poem for you I felt like a fraud and a fake, even though my love was true. I looked at all the faces that longed to have you back, All the tears, sorrow, and broken hearts draped in cloth so black. I had no idea what they felt, the pain of losing your love, Of never seeing or hearing from you until they are up above. I stood up by the alter for you, to say a final farewell, And I spoke prewritten words about you that I never knew myself. Now I must confess something, a secret that clouds my heart. It has to do with you and me and when you finally made your part. I could not cry a single tear, even though I really tried. You see, the loss I felt when you were gone made me horrified. It was not that I would miss our chats on the telephone, Or that I would miss our card games and spending time alone. I could not feel sad about the times that we never even shared. What made me sad is that I never really got the chance to be there. I need to admit that I was jealous of those mourning you. I wanted to feel the same kind of loss and heartache too. I wanted to speak of you myself, with my own memories. I wanted to share of things we did and tell my own stories. I want to smile and laugh looking back at our inside jokes. I want to feel warmth in my heart when I hear our song on the radio. I want to feel like I knew you and am able to share your legacy, But unfortunately, I do not, and I cannot, and that is what truly hurts me. Now I know I did not know you well and I did not know you long, But somehow that does not change my love for you, for it is very strong. We may not have shared a lot, between you and me, But I realized something important: that our thing is that we are family. You always said I love you, without ever blinking an eye, And I always said it back Grandpa, and that is the reason why. I've somehow managed to keep my mouth shut during this election and just listen. I don't know how I did it, especially since I've always got an opinion about something, but now I feel like I need to get some things off my chest.
First, let's strip away any politics and forget about the presidential candidates. I want to talk about opinions, humanity, and love. It wasn't until last night that I truly felt worried about the future of America. No matter which candidate wins and becomes the next President of the United States, there's going to be a huge divide in America. It makes me sad to think that after Wednesday, my life and everyone else's in this country could be totally different, and not a good kind of different. Everyone has an opinion about what and who they think is best for this country, and all I ever hear is opinions in the form of facts. It's one thing to be passionate about what you believe in and support, but it's a whole other thing to be so headstrong about what you believe that you shove it down someone's throat and make them feel like their beliefs are wrong. Opinion: a view or judgement formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge No matter how strongly you believe in something, not matter what it is, it doesn't make it a fact. Period. You know what is a fact? This country needs change. It needs progression. But most importantly, it needs to be united. Not a single individual can do that on their own! It takes every American, whether you were born in this country or are an immigrant, to come together and realize that the love we share for America outweighs any opinion anyone can have. I know that the future of this country is important, and that's why I'm writing this. I'm not trying to please anyone or make anyone mad. I just wish that Americans had enough respect for themselves and others to believe what they want while still being a decent human being. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that you're a bad person for giving your opinion and believing what you want. I am, however, saying that it's not okay to intimidate, hurt, and bully fellow Americans just because they don't agree with you. We all care about America and want changes. That being said... It wasn't until just now that I truly felt worried about the future of America. This country is the land of the people, the home of the brave. WE decide the future. WE make the choices. WE can either choose to hate or choose to love. If you cannot choose to love your country over hating those who disagree with you then I do not know what is to come of this beautiful place I call home. Fact: America has come a long way. Fact: There's still a long road ahead. Fact: I voted today. Opinion: I think one candidate is better than the other. Does it matter who? No. Love was not on the ballot, but I am voting for it anyways because I value this country and what we stand for. Do you? |
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January 2021
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