[greenmxnz]

I’ve been grabbing at the wind and trying to find a space where I can breathe and cry without being blindfolded, and without questioning why is it that the air is so thin. Also with inquiry of the stone cold hearts of my brothers and sisters that walk the same pavement as I do, trying to figure out whether or not they’ve forgotten, never noticed, or prefer not to think about those realities. Praying that if I could ever become as ignorant, just maybe this load would be taken off of my back, and maybe these bricks, overtime, would become a bit lighter to lift. Maybe this blindfold would deteriorate into my eyesight and make life less difficult, and truth would be as thin as the air around me, or in disguise, and I’d winse at the government’s choices. Just maybe if I were to agree with Trump, or maybe if I didn’t see anything wrong with stealing, or I constantly wanted more, I, too, could push for the American dream. Maybe I, too, could be comfortable with being happy while others are starving. It would put me at ease to be unable to acknowledge that I could fall and become hungry or immensely depressed. I think that what I would want the most is to neglect the feeling of empathy as I listen to my loved ones hurl insults at me, and understand exactly where it all comes from. Even with the heart that I’ve felt bleed, die, and beat, I’ve still been able to comprehend that there’s a misunderstood place where hate comes from. Even then, that doesn’t relieve the burn, and that doesn’t aid my same wounds to heal, so is it alright to say that I hate me as much as I’ll be hated?