Invisible Monsters

Unfair

Dear Diary,

I'm afraid to think about dying.

I'm afraid that God will hear my thoughts and give me something even more horrible than death.

Actually scratch that. I'm more afraid on how I am going to die. Whenever I think about torture, I just feel so horribly awful for those who had to die like that (by THOSE I mean the innocent of course.) I would rather die in my sleep or on my terms. Peacefully, with no blood spilled or an inch of pain.

But most of us wish the same now don't we?

Life pretty funny, as I've said before. Those who are good and full of life somehow get the worse of luck in the end, like cancer or something. It's pretty fucking backwards if you ask me.

"Why do bad things happen to good people?"

Is that how the world's supposed to work? What the hell happened to so called "karma"? Do bad things ever really happen to bad people? Why do good people get the end of the stick all the time? Why bother being good? I've been good to people. Too good to people. Help them out however I can. Homework, advice, life stuff. Not because I wanted things in return, it's because it felt good damn it. It felt good making people smile. When people are happy, I'm happy.

Maybe that's why I turned into a class clown. I loved attention when I'm making people laugh. I loved hearing how funny I was, it brought my shit self esteem up a couple notches.

I got in trouble a lot that way and my parents wouldn't understand why I try so hard to make people laugh. They never did try to understand it either. Grounding me, spankings. Didn't stop me from cracking a couple more inappropriate jokes to my peers at wrong moments.

Was it wrong? Was I wrong when all I was trying to do was feel better about my ugly ass self? Why couldn't they understand that? Why couldn't they take the time to know my side? Was I not worth it?

My mother claims she knows me but she doesn't know shit.

Did she know how many times I cried myself to sleep when I was 8 from hearing "buck-tooth beaver" for the thousandth time that day?

Did she know that I hated the color of my skin because of one too many boys rejecting me because of it? One too many girls making one too many colorist jokes?

Did she know I hated myself? Hated everything about me?

Of course she couldn't, not at first glance. I was a "happy kid" according to my parents, seeing as I made way too many jokes and I was always running around screaming with my playmates like any other normal kid.

But she knew I was bullied. She should have foreseen the damages of all of that. As a parent, you shouldn't be so passive when it comes to stuff like this. However, she came from another culture. They didn't handle stuff like this at all. Over there it's a "normal" thing.

A couple years down the road, I got a baby brother. And when he got into the third grade, my parents were making sure that my sister and I treated him right and not tease him too much because it will affect him later on in life.

I'm trying to understand why my parents couldn't have done that with me. They took the time to understand my brother early in his life and would make sure he got all he needed and was there for him when bad stuff happened. My father definitely didn't blame him when he got messed with by guys. He was there and he listened. And it fucking pisses me off that they couldn't have done that with me.

Can't go back to fix it now can we?

I was taking a metro and saw a bunch of white people wearing their MAGA hats. I felt really uncomfortable so I just left.

America is a mess right now Diary. It's a mess and I don't know what to do about it. School shootings left and right. Trump and all his decisions. The conflict with multiple other countries. Stores closing due to our dollar literally becoming worthless. Racial tensions are high as fuck. These Nazi fucknuts running around. I mean, there's a lot to be stressed about.

But the one thing that stresses me out the most is that I can't change it. I have no power to change my society. I thought I did; with my activism on social media and educating people in the real world. I thought I could change something by putting up posters talking about the rape statistics at night at public high schools. But I don't have power to change how the ghettos are set up. I can't stop wars. These pointless ass wars. I can't fix how crooked our system is because you can always bribe someone to turn their cheek on your wrongdoings.

I can't stop the genocides in Syria and human trafficking in Libya. I can't stop the bombings and gassing of little children who knew nothing of malice and corruption.

I weep for them. I weep for the world.