Woman of Color, Age 24

I’m done

Context grounds the pain, it tells you to take notice, to care.

We care about miss treated animals, Sarah McLachlan radiating the call to empathy.

I can’t give you what you want

Answers, conclusions to why I am

There’s adversity

Suffocating

Absent, dejected

Anything, but everything

I can’t give you what you want

Someone who has and then leaves trauma as a stepping stone. Net contained marketable tales of woe, of being the victim. What did you even survive?

The story in your college application, the story of your rise from adversity into consistent competence. 18 years old, supporting myself, starting college, the adversity doesn’t go away. It collects, the collective negro unconscious.

I can’t tell you what you want to hear, then we’d both be liars. Then we would both be cowards.

It doesn’t go away, it’s woven into the fabric of my timeline, of my being

I can’t give you what you want

The adversity doesn’t go away, the skills I didn’t learn are still muted. Unlocked.

When does it go away? They clipped away any mobility.

Can I get it back, move one with the capital I’ve never had?

Maybe cut back, do more with less. If I enjoy something that costs you money, simply stop. Chose to be neurotypical, fake it until it passes. This phase, this inconvenient way of living isn’t up to the standards we would expect.

What do you expect and how?

the resources I wasn’t given

the help I could reach

I can’t give you what you want

Adversity, it starts here, and it never ends. People die, and the struggle remains. Systematic racism.

Systematic adversity tailor-made by America for capitalism. For slavery. From slavery.

Adversity, it starts here, and it never ends. People die, and the struggle remains. Systematic racism.

It goes back to slavery, not to hurt the decedents of slave owners. After all, this is America.

It started with the genocide of native people and then black people were shipped in.

That is where it started.

It makes it harder, it adds more years on to your sentence.

Hurt feelings, unfortunate.

I long for the minimum, taken for granted

A without… being crushed sorrow

Without, having my heart slow- I can breathe in, but…

Mental illness and adversity and poverty and being black in America. A life without a safety net, with the fear of losing, of homelessness, of the death of giving up.

I don’t give up, I fail

I fail and I fall and I fail again

And I’m better for it

My face is stronger, replaced with plates of steal

The nerves,

My fucking nerves, anxiety amplifies sensations of repulsion, nails on chalk and

that’s not how adversity works

it fucks you

its mocking, but bruises fade

not for me, not for you

fading from others and finding a home,

rooted within each crafted schema,

this common history is a parent you can’t ignore,

a parent who plays the victim despite everything.

I can’t tell you what you want to hear

I can’t be who you want me to be 

this is my life to live

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