When we are little, we are terrified of monsters under the bed. A little older and we are scared to go to school alone. At different points our fears change. People are scared of applying to college, moving to a new city, or growing old. But for my generation, we embrace the fear and try to fight it. We grew up terrified of going to school due to how many of our fellow classmates died of bullet wounds as we had to watch as the older generations told us, "You'll understand when you're older." or "It's because of those damned cell phones." Or my personal favorite, "Parents aren't raising their kids like they used to." But the same people who say those things are the ones who gave us the phones and the same people we call our parents. Now, we are facing a new threat at school, so we combat it with masks and staying home while midde aged women say "I can't breath." You can breath; you just choose not to. But you know who couldn't breath? George Floyd. "But he had a bad history." So does the orange clown in the white house that you turn a blind eye to. Just as you choose to turn a blind eye towards the murder of Breonna Taylor. Her killers have not been served justice. Just as the previous generations have not done the Earth justice. You will die of old age. We will die of climate change. "You can't believe everything you see." Oh I'm aware and I check my sources. But some of you will believe a random man on facebook over a renowned scientist just because you agree with him. "If you don't like it then leave." America was built on opportunity and immigrants. Many of the peope you hear yelling and protesting for change are protesting not because they hate the country. They love America and want it to be the best version of itself, just as parents want their children to be the best versions of themselves. The idea of telling people to leave because they want change is unamerican seeing as how America was established by people who wanted change and freedom from British rule. We do not need to make America great again. America is already great, but this country can still improve just as you and I can. That is why you see the younger generations protesting and rioting in the street. Not the looters. There will always be the bad few who drown out the caring many. And maybe one day, minorities, women, and all people will be able to walk down the streets without keys between their fingers, and without being terrified.

Why do I do this to myself?

Over and Over

The cycle repeats.

I tell myself,

Never again.

And then he hits me.

He beats me.

And shoves me down.

Why can’t I forget?

I forget everything else in my life.

Including things that truly matter.

So why can’t I forget the horrors he put me through.

When the smile on your face immediately brightens my day, I know I love you. When the thought of you leaving leaves me crying helpless for hours, I know I love you. When every passing moment without you reminds me of you, I know I love you. When you move my hair out of my face and my heart swells with that warm feeling, I know I love you. When the idea of being with anyone else sickens my stomach, I know I love you. When I respect your personal space enough to keep my thoughts wrapped inside my mind, I know I love you. When all I want to do is be there for you and help you see the light in life that I myself struggle to see, I know I love you. When I follow the wrong person down the wrong stairwell, and you hold me and tell me it's okay as a soak your shirt with my tears, I know I love you. And in those most tender moments, I know you love me.

The warm, damp rain fell on my face. Although I wasn’t supposed to be outside, I was desperate for a breath of fresh air. I had been cooped up in that freezing hospital bed for too long. I had little left until the cancer consumed me. Although I should wish for more life, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any more crummy chemo. I didn’t want any more horrid treatments. I danced nostalgically for when I was safe. I begged to go back to the time before I was sick. I so desperately wanted to stop aching and wincing in pain. I loathed cancer. Although I didn’t want to smudge my sweatshirt, I laid down in the soft, comforting grass. Everything around me started fading. Something ebony and gentle picked me up. Then I saw the colors, every last one. The pumpkin, the chocolate, the caramel, and the ink blended together. Then everything went white. My breath was gone.

You held me down by the throat and the warm tickle of “Don’t scream” on my ear chilled my blood. I was frozen and terrified as you took advantage of my kindness. Tears streamed down my face as you ripped the clothes from my body. Two weeks go by before I see you again. And the only words you manage to get out as you bow your head in shame are “I’m sorry.” You walk away as if two little words will repair the damage you caused.