Disrespect

This is an instagram post I made. I am absolutely sucked by people that get away with making others feel insignificant. They are worth SO much more than that. Worst part? it happens everyday, in different ways. Nd nobody has the heart or nerve to speak out about it. I do. I will. I am.

Old Journal Entry

We're nearing that day. As I get closer and closer I seem to be gettung more and more depressed. I don't know what to do at all. I feel like crying all the time. Just use my slow, soothing, depressing music to block and drown out the world. Complete solitary isolation. Does that mean I'm weak? What does showing weakness mean? Do I appear weak to everyone? Is that why people always try to hurt me? What's wrong wuth being a nice, understanding person? Compassionate and caring toward everyone. Kind hearted and willing to help. What's wrong with me being myself? Just me. Why are people that are coldhearted, meand and wicked get everything? Why do they seem to have no worries or even a care in the world? Should I be that way? I don't want to be that type or person. How do I learn to love and accept myself? How can I have so much love for other people, but not myself? Nobody would ever know all that gioes through my mind. Everyone just sees me smiling and laughing all the time. Sometimes I want to just sleep and not w2ake up. I don't want to die though. Does that make sense? Probably not. Does every teenager think like this sometimes? Would anyone understand? I sometimes question my life. Just to see who realloy cares. Isn't it sad that sometimes you simply don't know? Especially with family. I worry myself to death about everything and everyone, but do they worry about Ebone? Does anyone randomly think about me? Will this be the death of me? Worrying? What-ifs? Sensativity? Cold heartedness? Over-Caring? Compassion? I thought these were all good things. I really need to start writing again to get everything out. All the things that I losted being the death of me, I just realized..those things are the definition of stress. I hate that word... that thought. I never recognize the feeling when people tell me that I am because I'm so used to it. I've adapted my lifestyle to stress. Will stress be the death of me?

Yes. I truly believe it will. Might as well say R.I.P now.

R.I.P.

It was on this day three years ago that my entire world changed. I lost my best friend and most amazing father in the world. It doesn't feel like I've gone without him for so long. He was w me every single day of my life...and in his last days he still wanted to cater and take care of his children. I miss him w all my heart and will never let him go. I know I shouldn't, but I still mourn him. Even though he isn't suffering anymore. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love this man more than anyone that I've ever met. I will honor and uphold his name until MY last day on this earth. I can't stop the tears right now but I hope eventually I will reach the point where I won't cry anymore. I miss him. My heart aches just to hear his voice again. Cherish and love your parents. You'll never understand how much they're worth until they're gone. I wish I had my dad here to help me through this lifetime. I miss him more than any amount of words could explain. As painful and agonizing this day might be, my sister gave me some advice. Choose your emotions like you would choose your clothes. You can choose to mourn and weep and make yourself dwell on this. Or, you could smile and think about all that you have to be happy about. I wonder if I can choose my emotions today.

Scenery

Simply from the first few pages, I can picture this neighborhood in my head. The busted and boarded up windows, the broken down buildings with fire ashes decoration the brick walls, the broken blacktop that has been left to disinagrate under the barefoot feet of the children. I can even see the people and children they describe playing around the small weed-like trees growing out of the tar. I see them, and they don't see me. A priviledged child on the outside looking in. Not knowing a clue of what's going on. Not being able to hear the thoughts in the adult mind of this small child. Whether he's carelessly playing or cautiously watching for the next tragedy to strike. Wondering if "tragedy" is the norm to them. What is my norm?

Honestly thus far, this book makes me question my street smarts. I know I'm not completely naive. However, I didn't have to grow up watching my back as a toddler. I could go outside and explore my neighborhood and feel safe. I wonder what kind of talks their parent has to have with their child abnout being safe, if they even do talk. What is going through the parent's head when they send their child outside that door? The thoughts, worries and scenarios running through a mothers' mind as she watches the evil in the world just linger. I see the smile she portrays as she sends her child out to meet their friends. I see her instant facial expression as soon as they close the door behind them. Her face turns into a sorrowful and pained frown. Not knowing if her child is coming home. But will she ever show anything but a smile to her child? Never.

I see the things they don't see. I hear things they don't say. And they know things I will never understand.

Before I Read

I'm actually very excited about starting this book. It looks like I could really get into it. Since Black History month is approaching, I feel more inclined to read material such as this. I feel as if this will be a good book to start on.From the looks of it, this book seems engaging. I already love reading so this shouldn't be hard to get into. Once I start reading I can guarantee that I won't want to stop ! :)