and i can't stop crying.
it maybe too fresh to write,
too real to remember.
i was with six other people as we walked past these white men,
this one white man,
bright blue shirt,
fucking EW is what i am to him.
i didn't hear. for some reason, or maybe i subconsciously zoned out as tactic to save myself from all the grief i am currently feeling. my staff member heard though, came to my defense. i'm grateful for his love--yet resentful.
i thought i dodged a bullet,
just to realize more than one was shot,
how bloody it feels to hurt this bad.
and i've been called worse--i guess not.
ew at what?
laying in my twin size bed,
i sense a headache coming because of all the crying i'm doing.
ew to what?
a body not mine,
a body that was taken from me at an early age from a father that tuh-tuh-shhhhhh me too much.
ew to what?
my skinny blue jeans,
members only jacket and jazz shoes,
if only the white man knew.
i wonder if he knows how much he affected me,
but didn't as he only opened up what i've been trying to keep close this past week.
i'm disgusted with myself. i lost it during my staff meeting.ran to the bathroom and called my sister. what am i going to do without her these next ten days?
---haha i just smiled. the song came up. although he is not mine, i know he looked. they knew he [wanted] to look. i still have a chance. and today was the third day of this battle to win/lose him.
fuck you white man.
fuck you ew.