I dislike myself strongly, largely because I am black.

There’s more wrong with me, but that’s what it revolves around. I’m full of disgust and wearyment with myself and the world. I hate the way things are, and I hate the way I am.

I’m relieved that I have an exit plan, because I’m so done with living as this thing- in this world, no less. A human conscience doesn’t deserve to be trapped inside a humiliation.

There has been this negative feeling for so long. I felt dirty while playing with other children. I was never normal, never good enough, subsomething.

Sometimes I wish I could go and see an acceptable person in the mirror for once. I wish I could go out, blend in, and not feel like a lumbering, looming, grotesque monster that should be hiding because it doesn’t belong, and its existence is wrong.

Forget it though, because I don’t get to have that. Fine. There is no point anyway, at least not one that I care about.