piece

1:30 am. I wake in the middle of the night.

The first time I ever saw him, I was a freshly turned fifteen year old. We were in summer school, he sat behind me. At the time, I didn’t have eyes for him, but I knew he existed. Little did I know, the young boy who sat behind me in my math class would turn out to be my first great love. Summer school ends. I don’t know his name, but I remember my classmates, and I remember his face. He’s around, somewhere

Fast forward
two years
our worlds collide again
not by chance or coincidence
but it started in that math class for him.

We’re 17 years old from different worlds.

Culture differences are easy to adjust to or assimilate when young, but eventually we grow into ourself. We grow into our culture because it’s learned, but also a generational inheritance of essence, core, and self. we budge, but
shock and clash simultaneously took place.

I was a young girl with my first real relationship.
He introduces me to his, and I to mine.
we fell deeply in love
he was my world
and I…
I was his world, too.
I will always love him,
it’s time to clear some channels
I hope we reflect from our angles

bruised.

We experienced constant strains when we first dated. His culture is woven by their tight knit community. The tragic occurrences of the genocide reduced their culture’s population size, as a result, it’s common for individuals to only date/marry within their culture to continue and nurture their customs and traditions alive, and sometimes racial purification. Anyone else is an outsider, even if you are on the “inside”. Undeniably, highly idolized celebrities play a role in modernization as well as antagonist behavior towards other cultures, most specifically Black culture. Therefore, my multiracial roots, especially my black culture (also) plays an interesting role in my past relational dynamic.

We were in love, and young, and yet we experienced lots of turm oil that teenagers should not have to deal with. In the beginning, several of his members didn’t agree with our relationship, due to my ethnic background, which eventually changed.

Today interracial dating is trend, but also highly stigmatized. For instance, there are still existing preconceived notions,prejudices, and racist and misogynistic language. His culture does identify as Anglo passing in our census, therefore his and their culture’s experiences aren’t similar to myself, a woman of color. I never understood the taboo or problem with our interacial relationship because I’m multiracial. Still, I’ve never been a stranger to racism or micro aggressions, even with friends or families. I experience it 99% of my life. Racism, a verbal and nonverbal language, I’m fluent in.

Nonetheless, my favorite theory, the cultural imperative reminds,
no cultural pattern is inherently right or wrong

I’m getting a flashback. Hold on,
I get flashbacks often

I’m five years old. My hands are tiny. I’m locked inside a small closet. Truthfully, I don’t recall how I got here. 

I love him, but he yells at my kin. Different between She and him. Different between me and him.

She will never find anyone better than him. No one will love her or take care of her the way he did. No one is good enough, at least not better than him.

I’m in a closet. My tiny hands want to knock. I’m frozen.

two
naïve she’s

I’m only five, where are we going?
She’s packs their things.

Memory vanished.

I love him, and he yells at me. You will never find anyone better than me. No one will love you or take care of you the way I did. No one is good enough, at least not better than him.

He’s look at how you speak to She’s.

Repetition, over and over, and over,
again.

every time we’d end
we’d start up the pattern again
sometimes,
it just needs to end.

I want a fresh start,
it’s difficult with out him.

I wrote on monday
I remove 6 blinds. Yes 6 blinds from my eyes
the purge of naïve she

God doesn’t let me sleep
he’s waited so long for me to speak
and release.

I pray,
the crazy is turning my crazy
God let me out.

God replies,
let it out.

My head hurts, and my chest, heart, and stomach too.
I talk to a friend,
i’ll be single for a year soon,

time is of the essence, relative
repetition
over and over, and over,
again.

Naïve she barely got peace.

7
plus 8 months,
peace.

i exit to
pieces

we miss you
to pieces

I miss me to pieces. 

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