Stop

I think about being called pakistan in the hallways

Wondering if those jutting motions I would do with knives

Would actually penetrate my chest after one fluke time.

 

I think about that stupid fucker asking me if pakis used deodorant

Wondering whether all of this hatred towards me was going to stop

Or whether I would make it stop permanently during those times I would

Contemplate downing all of those pills in the medicine cabinet.

 

I think about how I kicked that fucking asshole so hard in the leg one time

That I thought I was going to keel over – cause he didn’t

But then my mind becomes a blank and I can’t remember anything more.

I remember that I am here right now writing these words

Thinking about these moments of  nearly a quarter of a century ago

But still can play out as though it was yesterday.

 

Now I think about these young children who swim in this social media ocean

Who have access to killing themselves so easily that i feel like we have an epidemic on our hands and we don’t have a way of controlling or even talking about it clearly.

Cause the difference between me and them is that I knew it would end – they did not.

 

So, as a collective whole, we need to say that it DOES NOT get better.

But rather we need to stop the entire fucking train to begin with.

We must not say go through the shit because there is an end to the tunnel.

We must instead say that we must all shovel this pestilence out of the way for good.

So that these children know that we have the capacity to live in a world where we are not judged by what we are, who we are or where we come from.

 

This is my mantra – fingers crossed.