identity struggles.

racism is terrible. don't let it happen.

Withering on the inside, I walk, struggling.
I walk with my head held high, for this should have been a prideful moment for me.
Yet as I walk further and further down the aisle,
my heart withers forth,
until my breath cuts short,
and I struggle to grasp enough air to maintain the life in me.
I struggle to dam back the tears that form behind my very eyes.
I struggle to keep the smile plastered onto my fiery face,
as I shake the presenter's hand.
My voice rasps as I struggle out a "thanks",
struggle to face the crowd of 500,
and head back up the aisle hoarded with persecutors,
with branders,
stereotypers,
racists.
I struggle to keep my steps moving,
moving my crumbling soul,
up the aisle of hell.
And this is only day numero uno.

Damn them all,
condemn their evil hearts,
why are they not situated in hell already?
Questions like these pervade my mind as I open the glassy doors,
and enter hell itself.
I hear harsh whispers,
"Chinese girl",
"what's with her eyes?",
"what the f**k is an Asian doing here?",
and I am ashamed.
Not of my race,
but of myself.
No words escape my mouth,
no anguish is released,
and I can feel it building in this little cavern in me,
and until I burst,
it is contained there.
I have not burst yet,
but the day I do,
I'm like a Nazi,
piously taken notes,
of who wrongs me, and who does not.
And those who do not,
are listed on my "nice" list,
but those who do,
may God have mercy,
because their list is titled "burn in hell".

Above my head is a cloud.
A cloud full of worries,
thoughts,
ideas,
s**t.
And the cloud,
is a cumulonimbus.
It thunders and roars,
begging to be let loose,
begging to be written down,
begging to be let known.
And I resist.

I find comfort in certain people,
knowledge,
music,
words.
I find comfort in my struggles,
for they show to me that I am not perfect.
That I am like everyone else.
That I am not different.
And I find great comfort in that.
That my eyes do not define who I am.
That my ancestry does not brand me.
Yet I have struggles.
Why?

Author's Note

I wrote this on a dime, don't mind grammar errors, etc.

Reviews

[LisetteCanWrite!]

This was so full of emotions and a struggle that so many face sadly.. Why, why, why do we judge people for what is on the outside? Whether it's skin, clothing, hair, natural or accidental deformaties (people stare I see them).. why can't so many get past that and try to see the beauty in others.

Everyone has bad and good in them.. hopefully we can EVOLVE past those first initial judgements.. not be afraid to look deeper and if we still don't like what we see .. just let them BE. Don't judge those who judge you so harshly.. I loved your words here and I think everyone feels these feelings on some level believe me.. Have confidence to just be yourself and hold your head high! Beautiful and powerful creative outpouring .. I rate this REALLY high.. great job!