May 28, 2009
I hate this place
more than anyone's words
could possibly describe. The smell
overtakes my nose and works its way into
my brain, where it is burned into my memory forever.
Just the atmosphere of one segregated part of my life has
the tendency to make my skin crawl. It feels as though debt, shame and
unanswered questions are burrowing through my body and taking
over my soul at the same time. It is an understatement to say I
don't fit in here. I feel like the black duck trying to fit in with a
family of white geese. This place is the reason for my hatred
of anything traditional, the reason for my desperate
attempt at being unique. Who would guess I come
from a place so barren, so ***** so
empty? A place of constant
attack and scrutiny
and yet, this
is home. This
place is where
chapters of my
history have
been written.
So many of
my tales have
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
been etched into
these walls. This is
where my unlikely fairy tale begins.
This place keeps me safe and
always saves room for me at the
table. These are my roots. My support
system that always keeps me anchored.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
May 28, 2009
I hate this place
more than anyone's words
could possibly describe. The smell
overtakes my nose and works its way into
my brain, where it is burned into my memory forever.
Just the atmosphere of one segregated part of my life has
the tendency to make my skin crawl. It feels as though debt, shame and
unanswered questions are burrowing through my body and taking
over my soul at the same time. It is an understatement to say I
don't fit in here. I feel like the black duck trying to fit in with a
family of white geese. This place is the reason for my hatred
of anything traditional, the reason for my desperate
attempt at being unique. Who would guess I come
from a place so barren, so ***** so
empty? A place of constant
attack and scrutiny
and yet, this
is home. This
place is where
chapters of my
history have
been written.
So many of
my tales have
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
been etched into
these walls. This is
where my unlikely fairy tale begins.
This place keeps me safe and
always saves room for me at the
table. These are my roots. My support
system that always keeps me anchored.
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