Lastly, My Dearest White People…

Lastly…

Dear White People,

Remember when life was so simple riding our bikes through “The Grove”, our cookie cutter neighborhood, almost every house was the same. 

Your littlest pet shops and my bright purpliest barbie dream house were the best. I grew up thinking I was a fairy princess… even though my hair was kinda lame.

But, we played video games too, I still have the same dark blue Nintendo DS as you. 

Life in “The Woods” was so simple, we grew up climbing trees, playing in the creek and you showed me how courageous I could really be. 

Till this day, can you believe that even though we always played underneath that ratty sewer, I remain terrified of dirty nasty snakes but, what’s new to me is how the hell are you still afraid of big nasty nipples… I mean ripples in shallow water. 

I shouldn’t be the one to judge, because we played a good match of tug a war with the great outdoors.

And, we made a mess of our mistakes but we were too eager to explore to even stress about anything more. 

Remember soaking in the pool every summer and sledding for hours when it snowed every other winter, we’d get wet and wild whenever we had the chance to. 

We even did gymnastics too, my sister was the best cheerleader and we all cart wheeled until we carpe the fuck out of the diem. 

We really knew how to seize the day, even though we sulked about playing on the same losing soccer, basketball, volleyball and tennis teams together, hell I even played golf every sunday, what about you? 

Wait, that’s not it though I played the same instruments as you, the double bass was too big for my small little hands so I gave it up to you. 

You even introduced me to rap music, kendrick lamar pimped my ride from a small cocoon to a big beautiful butterfly, who the hell is ben howard nowadays. 

African American, not me, but you showed me how to be black, you did that for me and we were the best of friends because I let you say the n word around me. 

Uh hello? I even let you use my hair as a pillow.

All that attention made me wonder about being your girlfriend, a dream come true, but I was too afraid to tell you… that I loved you. 

I but not you, virgin at nineteen. I never even had a boyfriend before, weird that my parents think I’m just a little whore. 

Why would I be painting porn?

I’m so confused.

Me, a whore? I guess it’s finally time to take off the rose colored glasses, since we’ve actually never touched before.

I’ll try to keep up this rhyme to entertain you once more.

But.. I couldn’t believe you never looked at me in any other way before, like ever. 

You shared your biggest fantasies about me but could never commit to me. I thought you were on the same wavelength as me, listened to the same music as me, you even played it harder and louder than me. 

Wait, that wasn’t your fantasy.

It was me, I was supposed to do that for you, play louder than you, but, desperate, you were beaten by a man that played harder, or maybe I was beaten by a man way darker than me because I realized none of you wanted me. 

I even warned him of the bruises you gave me from all that childhood play but yet I still bled, everywhere, for months.

I guess it’s just that masculinity truly has no dignity, but it went right over my head, rough and tough, that’s the same way you always play. 

More bruises to add to my collection of good memories, I think I’m getting used to this skin with all this color around me, all this color in me. 

Actually, I think I am living a double life. I thought that this was the good life, the one meant for me, the one your good god designed for me. 

Maybe it’s finally time for you to admit it too, that I had a life just like you, you may have even loved me too and I wanted more of that life with you, like how you all got to. 

Sadly I couldn’t have it for too much longer because of people that looked just like you. 

I didn’t know I could feel this much pain over a life that we lived the same.

How are you okay?

What about that fantasy, how could you let someone hurt me in your fairytale, for so long. 

Was it really you? 

Even though you went through the same mundane pain as me? 

A bird shit on my face, you told me it was good luck, but when is it coming? Did it pass me by and land into your lap instead. I knew there was a reason I constantly fell off my trampoline because you butt bounced me way too hard. Yes, my butt is a big cushion just like you said but how do I explain that it’s not big enough to handle that kind of pain.

Remember that, I was walking down the aisle of my eight grade graduation when you said that. Big and loud enough in the dead silence for everyone to hear, yet, everyone still cheered… for you. 

Passion is not always pleasure, that’s something I will always treasure.

Was it really you, who hurt me for so long?

Was your fantasy a black and white movie? 

Now I can’t remember. 

I feel like a newbie to my own life, I think my reality, my whole life is warping around your lack of color, so pale.  

I mean hell, I’m just trying to remember my old life since black lives matter now.

Oof wait, but remember when my first cat changed genders and ran away, poor Mittsey… I mean Sir Mittsey, right? Isn’t it hilarious how foreshadowing that moment was, not knowing that you were right about me not being a good enough fairy. 

I wasn’t the best fairy princess, more like a hairy princess with a deep voice to match. A manly one at that. 

Man oh man oh man, I wish you would have stopped pointing at my man.. I mean tan, especially on the best night of a princess’s life.

No one wanted to be seen with someone as ugly and hairy as me, saggy titties with no bra, that’s such a flaw. 

So I showed up exactly how you told me, bald like a princess… like a prince, a sweaty prancing prince in a dark green dress. 

I sweated right through that dress dancing like a mad man but your tan was more important than mine to join the clan.

Oh man, where was your mom during prom, she could have fixed it all.

That reminds me. 

Maybe, you’ll remember this time. 

How about when my mom died when we were just 12 years old, and so did yours, well even if she didn’t actually die it kinda felt like it, right? Or maybe you just felt that way when your parents got divorced around that age so that means we both our white dads barely there, they disappeared in thin air. 

Like magic, like the black magic his girlfriend thought we were doing, but it’s okay she went to jail and we just kept playing sims in my room, there was never any real hail in there because the seasons were always in full bloom. 

My sister was gone with the wind too because she wouldn’t stop throwing things at you, or was it at me. Who threw that bowl at me, straight to my head, I should be gloomy but I’m all loopy. 

I was stuck in a loop, too young to run away but I was swept away by taking care of my new life in the simulation. 

The real one made me want to kill myself, because I never was the favorite child. 

Not even gods favorite child.

I was different.

Or maybe I was just depressed. 

Pressed by all aspects of life.

Brown enough for people to make fun of me, all willy nilly but the bruises weren’t black enough for you to actually care silly, for anyone to care, no matter where they came from. 

I am an immigrant so my life is not imminent 

Independent enough to be ignored, to be forgotten.

I was never a rotten child, but I was told that this was the good life.

The good life I surrendered to, but not even my white flag, the pass that my daddy gave me couldn’t save me, he was supposed to love me, but when my so called boyfriend threatened me, I couldn't even convince the police sworn to protect me.

Like I said, I was never the favorite.

But, we had each other, remember.

I guess you really don’t.

I guess I don’t remember it correctly either.

I’m exhausted.

I don't think I can keep up this sorry rhyme to keep you here listening to me.

You said you couldn’t relate to me anymore and we both didn’t know why. 

Somehow you couldn’t stop comparing and contrasting how different my skin color is from yours because the same school we always went to wanted you to, I was learning about it too, for the first time too, but you know what I think I actually meant to say the news, whatever, it was all happening at the same time any who. 

Oo what a difference 3 shades of melanin makes. 

But, now I have grown up too, with you, so I know that in fact it means a lot in this country. 

Like a lot.

Anyway, I have to remember that I am not a citizen so voting for my own rights isn’t even an option, but it’s not like it would matter either way.

I learned the language for you and oh how I was able to finally understand how we’ve experienced so many of the same… exact …things, just like I listed, but we are nothing alike.

How can that be?

I choose to see no difference because there are far too many similarities between us, but you laugh, like a lot, when I say those things to you, like right in my face when I’d never dare to do that to you.

But still, I definitely do not hate you even though right now it’s the cool thing to do, because you made me who I am. 

You are in my blood, my family looks like you and even though there’s no reason to really like you, you’ve been there the whole time and still are, but what about me?

What have I done for you?

Don’t you remember all those good times together, it seems as though the racism, xenophobia, homophobia, and colorism has taken over you and all the memories we shared together. 

You are nothing like you used to be.

I’ve had to rethink and reinvent my whole life - past, present and future because of how you look at me now that I am older, wiser, and much browner than I used to be. 

Lastly, my dearest white people, if the last 23 minutes of reading this was hard for you to get through, remember you could have closed this tab of your life a long time ago, but I cannot ignore the last 23 years we spent together. 

And, don’t call me a baby, life has quite literally slapped me so please do not be mean to me, and I might tense up if you start hitting on me. why would you want me?

This baby is independent now but has always been before, I was always alone, raising myself in someone else's home.

I even tried to explain this to a white man that I thought would understand, but all my issues needed too many tissues.

Weirdly, he started yelling at me, never even telling me why. 

How could you be so angry, cage the white man rage because it is too much for me to carry, to care anymore. 

How could you be so heartless?

I thought you could trust me, I thought I could trust you, but I quickly realized that I didn’t even know you, so why did I start talking to you, that’s so thoughtless.

Or maybe you just are.

I guess you were always like that even though you looked like all that I grew up with, all that I once knew, but I will always wonder why you looked at me with so much disdain, when I was the one in pain. 

I can’t believe I thought we had the same pain, that we lived a life the same. Seems to me like yours was mundane even though you showed me all that is, and all that was, was a dream of lies you bestowed upon me, a fantasy that was never even mine. 

Whose life have I been living this whole time?

I should have never tried going back in time to a place where people like you never wanted me to rain on your parade. 

When I bleed there's too much color to clean, but when you bleed the snow melts softly with the bright white light, how pretty it can be once it’s cleaned. 

Dust me off, but I’m too battered, I thought my life fucking mattered.

But, no matter how much the new you scares me now and how painful it is to look back at all that we went through, luckily I choose to keep going so that our memory can live on.

Thank you for making me feel like I meant nothing to you all along. 

I guess you’re right, I am nothing like you because I truly am not.

Yet, the real question is, would you believe me if I said all of these things we did together are absolutely true, but I know you’d want to see pictures to prove it because you need to see if it's true. 

I wanted to be just like you, all that I knew - all what you showed me, all that you told me was supposed to be true. 

But, you can’t seem to remember what we went through.

I was tagged in them I promise you, but I deleted my old facebook account so I could have once reminded you. 

Let me say, I still live a life of sweet… bittersweet luxury but without you, because you don’t want to keep living this very hairy fairy princess life with me. 

Man, maybe you forgot what it feels like or maybe you don’t even believe in me anymore. 

You left me 

I cried so hard when you never came back to me, that it never even mattered because you don’t remember.

I can’t even rejog your memory, sadly that’s not my problem

It was never my problem, I was never the problem.

So it’s no longer my problem, it’s yours now, seems like a pretty big responsibility to make up for all the things you’ve done to tear us apart. 

I wanted to be just like you, all that I knew, is what you told me, is what you showed me.

All those problems have gotten to our heads - over yours and into mine but, now out of mine and back into yours where it came from, where it rightfully belongs. 

It seems like neither of us are not done with our lives together yet…

Till death do us actually part