Hello Everyone! I haven't been able to keep up with my novels, both published and drafted, for several reasons
1. I'm a student.
As an immigrant, I came to America with hopes of becoming a doctor. After each year of being held back so up and economically, it went from wanting to be a doctor, to wanting to be a nurse to simply wanting to be something. Money is an issue. I don't have the same privileges as my Indian or American born cousins (I'm half black and half indian...well just black). I'm in college, struggling to pay tuition and pass my classes while working, and have no idea where my life is heading....
2. I'm really sad.
I won't offend any medical professionals and claim that I am depressed without there being a formal diagnosis, so I'll just stick with being really sad. My entire life I've struggled with my weight and the bullying that comes with it. Not only that, but being the first born of the paternal first cousins has put me in the role of the carer. I've had to shadow behind my younger cousins and bare their burdens as my own since I was old enough to handle their responsibilities. Of course any immigrant can tell you that they left their country to escape something, and that was what I tried to escape. However, as many immigrant tales go, it wasn't all fairy dust and sugar, but complete and utterly exhausting struggle the moment I stepped off that plane in Houston, Tx August 22nd 2011. Not only that, but the very cousin I was trying to escape came to America, and was so rude to her father that he put her out and she now lives with my father and I. She's my every insecurity. She's 3/4 Indian with a big booty and an even bigger personality. Boys love her, while I struggle to even be noticed. My own father treats her with more respect than he has ever shown me. My family likes her more than she likes me, and I'm afraid I can only be myself around my friends, and have to watch and mince my words with my own fucking family...and It sucks.
3. I have no love life.
I've been certain to make a black man love me. They all, however, flock to my lighter, more outgoing and more Indian cousin. In NYC, the only non white male that is attracted to me are those old, perverted business men, Haitian taxi drivers and even older Jewish Landlords. It gets so frustrating trying to combat my weight and lackluster love life while living and still having to fucking care for the very little girl that has cost me the most misery in my entire life. This, I feel, has caused me to be extremely weird and bad with giving and feeling love and with my emotions because I also...
4. Lack a real relationship with my parents.
My mother walked out on me when I was 3. Whenever I try to get an explanation from her, she blamed everyone else for her decisions, including me. My father is a closeted gay man who tries to be overtly masculine. I can't express any emotion to him without it coming off as me being ungrateful and cruel. I feel like I have no one else to turn to. I'm their mistake...they were only teenagers when I was born. To have to look at me without feeling like I've ruined their adolescent years must be hard for them, especially my mother. Yet, it pains me every time I look in the mirror and all I see is the very woman that has yet to show me love, maternal warmth and compassion. It really hurts.
All in all, I do not have the motivation. I feel helpless, useless and extremely ugly. I feel unloved.
I'm sorry.
Rayne.
