I haven't felt this way in a while

There are some things I mull over like a dog reluctant to give up the frisbee she's been biting for 7 minutes. "But puppy,  Charlie wants to play with the frisbee." 
And puppy stubbornly bites harder, refusing to relinquish. The following is one of those things in my life. I should just let Charlie play with the damn frisbee, but I am stubborn. So I'll let you know when I become more refined and less dog-like. But until then...



It's like that scene from "Save the Last Dance" when Shanille rips on Sarah and says something to the effect of "open up your pretty blue eyes and look around you, Sarah."  Sarah looks around the free clinic to look at all of the Black single mothers holding their crying babies with no Black men beside them, and Sarah, all the while, has Derek-the only Black man who seems to be doing something with his life in their neighborhood. And of course, he goes for the only white woman in an almost entirely Black community.

It's like when a suburban white girl cries about shit I think is trivial and everyone cancels plans for her and she's more than OK with their sacrifice. When she turns around so that I can see her puffed up face and go "awww....what happened?" Frankly, during times like that, I am not moved.

I am moved when a mother gives everything to buy her daughter a small cupcake for her birthday because that's all they can afford. I am moved when a Dominican family in bumfuck Dominican Republic living off of so little  prepare a large meal for their American guests.

I am not moved, however, when you want the world to revolve around you. I am not moved when you say "I would be fine with living in poverty for the rest of my life" when you can't even begin to scratch the surface of what that even means or looks like. And I am definitely not moved when you have every support system in place, financial and emotional cushions and when you have the luxury of "rebelling" against your parents and yet still find reasons to try to get me to pity you.

In fact, I'm going to be honest here: I have little compassion for people who cry and complain when things get tough when at the same time they have looks, smarts, the favor of everyone in their path and a constant flow of affirmation. And do you know why? Because I don't have all of that all the time, and I don't have the support systems. I do not have the luxury of throwing a fit and asking people to forgo their plans for me. They will most likely respond, "Ok. Annery. We'll be back later. Call if you need anything!" No one planned my birthday. No one showers me with affirmation. And for certain, no one would do my homework should I be in a state of utter chaos.
 I can't just become a barista if I want to because there is no one to rely on. When I'm broke I don't mean I have $600 in my savings account and a trust fund. I mean I have $0.53 in my savings account and -$2.00 in my checkings.

"No other assets?"
"Well...call your parents to see if you can borrow."

First of all, I'd never have to borrow money from my mother. She would gladly give me every penny she had at no cost. And secondly, I would never do that to her because I have more than she does. So, basically,  all I have is me--whether I am crying in my bed at night or shivering with fear--ain't no one going to come to my rescue.

So when little suburban girls want me to pity them-I'm sorry. Ain't gonna happen.
And then I feel like a bitch. You see me with my neck roll, finger raised and scrunched eye brows next to poor white beauty with tears and a red nose. Who do you think looks more affable and approachable?
I am sorry that your life has been so tough, little white girl. Welcome to the fucking world.