Good-Bye

I said goodbye to my sixteen year old cousin today. He was just a child; a baby. Barely old enough to compute the realities of life, but all to familiar with them at the same time. I loved and LOVE him dearly. I just want my cousin back.

I love you Andrew Jacob Flores.

Words

Words:

Just letters strewn together

Simple letters

(There are twenty six of them in the English alphabet)

But together they form hundreds of thousands of

Words.

Simple Words.

Words like

No.

Don't.

Stop.

(...Rape)

Words that you ignored

A word You created for Her.

The Day You took from Her.

Violating Her in the worse possible way.

Turning her cold.

Her beauty encased in ice.

Her smile dim.

Her eyes black, lifeless.

A shell of who once was...

Please. Don't. Stop.

Words.

Words turning to silence.

Her pleas falling on deaf ears.

Her sobs going unnoticed

Blocked by unrequited lust

Rape.

Words she won't speak.

Words she can't speak.

They make her feel inferior.

Wrong. Dirty.

As if it was her fault.

Words.

Just letters.

Strewn together.

Slide...

"He who without sin..."

If you don't know me:

Don't judge me.

I'm not an open book.

I don't enjoy being labeled.

Who are you anyways?

Uncovering Me?

My family and I couldn't be more different if we tried. I try to fit in with them, but to no avail. I don't do drugs, I don't drink, and I could care less for the "thug life" they seem so keen in perpetrating. My mom tells me I don't speak English, and I'm pretty sure five sentences into "how was your day" she stops paying attention to me. I'm on the path of right, but why do I feel I'm wrong? I just want to fit in. I've never fit in. Even in groups where I've had a place, my fit has never been an exact science. I don't pride myself on being a misfit, but...it's just something that comes naturally.

My place or rank, I suppose, as misfit leads me to wonder why: People think that they can read me.

Most would be shocked to know a few facts:

1. I'm the child of a black man and white woman.

Granted the year of my birth isn't as controversial as perhaps...a mixed child in the 60's, but I'm still somewhat of a taboo. A zebra can't change it's strips and a mixed children can't change their color. I've been called a Nigger, a Kike, and short. Between all three, the one that seems to most upset me is short, why? Because the other two aren't in my vocabulary. In order to insult someone, know the definition of what you are saying. A nigger isn't something that pertains to color. Kike...now you better watch what you say. Remember, Jesus is a Jew.

2. I have a sister who I believe hates me.

My sister is a 35 year old woman. Her and my mother share an antagonistic relationship at best. Sissy, claims that Mom forgot about her when I came along. I'm the "golden Child". Boy Oh Boy..what I would give not to hear that title ever again.

3. Everyone I love dies.

This sounds very melodramatic and Emo, but let's break this down:

Age 1:My father is murdered.

Age6: My Uncle, second father, dies of a heart attack. I find his body. Yes--i'm being serious.

Age 4. (I was going consecutively): Uncle is murdered for drugs...

Age12: My Cousin Chris is murdered, for a jacket.

Age 17 (two weeks before I turn 18): My Uncle who i'd give the world to have back dies. He was a sick man, an alcoholic to be more specific, but a wonderful Man. I just wish I could have him back. I'd give the world to have him. I know I'm being repetitive, but I would.

Age 19: My Cousin Andrew is murdered, Chris's little brother. WHY a CHILD was murdered is beyond me, but...alas. No answers.

4. I wasn't born in heart-town Mississippi or the Land Of Oz. But in Michigan's own Hell's Kitchen: Detroit.

I could tell you stories about my childhood that'd make your skin crawl. Promise you that. Childhood is Pandora's box however, and I won't delve any further. My mind is already destroyed, no need to pour salt into old wounds. Just note: I wasn't abused, I wasn't molested or anything of that nature. However, a mother who didn't have a mother...doesn't quite know what to do with a child.

5. School--LEARNING--is my savoir.

I'm not anti religious, actually; I know little about religion but right now I only believe in knowledge. Perhaps Eve had a point in taking from the Tree of Knowledge?

6.I would rather be punched in the mouth then for someone to see me cry.

7. I cry more than I should; I don't think crying is entirely healthy either.

8. I don't try to be creepy, or dark, but...it comes naturally.

9. One of my best friends says that I'm to cute for my own good. I don't know If I like being cute.

10. I've physically mutilated myself. Why? I'm not entirely sure. I haven't done it in a while, nor do I plan on it. At the time, though, I wanted to control something and my own body was the best choice.

Something to smile about

Finally, something that can brighten my mood. Oh so lovely and interesting.

Haunted