Long distance means nothing to me. 

When I was a child, I had a friend who lived in China.  I am not exactly sure what made us start being friends. I just know that nearly everyday I would try my hardest to stay up so that we could talk. With me being in America and 15, this was not always an easy feat. Still I considered this young man to be my brother. 

He was the kindest person I knew at the time. Even though we could only talk maybe 30 mins or so I still looked forward to our talks. 

Eventually I lost contact with him. I do not know the reason or even when we stopped talking, just that we did. 

I still think of him. He helped me through so much in life. 

I can only hope that he knows I still love him. He was the brother I did not get to keep. 

I love him so much. 

And miss him all the more.

Promptah

I find that writing prompts and challenges can sometimes help a person get into the habit of writing at a constant rate.  

Sadly when things happen, such as an illness, getting back into the pattern of things can be difficult. Often times it damn near impossible.

Last month I participated in a writing challege and was going strong till I not only got sick, but I had also gone to visit friends. 

It was so hard to start writing again. Sure I could have just wrote down anything yet it wouldn’t have fit my theme. My theme being questions and answers (stated for those who probably couldn’t tell). 
So this time I will doing random writing prompts and stalking Pinterest boards for things to help me get in the writing mood again. 

Todays prompt is quite interesting. 

I am not sure how I will go about writing it but I will try my best to keep it engaging. 

   

Race wars

Parenting is one of the most difficult things in the world. You have this tiny person who depends on you. A person you must watch grow into this not so tiny adult. All the while you must feed them, clothe them, make sure they stay clean, house them, educate them, etc. At times they do not allow this to happen. They will fight you, and often times, they will win.
One popular belief is that your parenting style is already set in stone. It is your race that decides what kind of parent you are.

Latino/Mexican/Hispanic parents are absent. They tend to yell a lot and be a bit helicopterish but they are loving as well. They may lean towards abusive but in a way that their children joke about later in life. They are all about family. Not as accpeting of uniqueness. 

Caucasian America parents are smothering. They strive to be their childs friend first and a parent dead last. They are the fun ones. You can get away with murder. Literal murder and they would still root for your success. They are not smart and should not be trusted. This is due to the fact that they seem perfect but are quick to disown children. They do not value family but inside value appearance. 
Asian parents are prone to abuse. Like white families they have a tendency to disown their children for various means. They care more about work and grades then anything else. There is no time for fun with them.
Black parents are the poster child of abuse and neglectful parenting.  They do not care about their children at all. Actually they are pretty quick to beat them for looking the wrong way. Like the rest above they can have their good moment but it is so rare. They also value appearance but it goes hand and hand with strength. As long as you are not caught by those in charge, you can do anything. From selling drugs, being a bully, to outright mudering and torturing people. A black parent will protect their child at all cost all the while punishing them for being born. 

See these?

These are fucking sterotypes. But they are so ingrained into american society that we are ok with that. Black parents are already seen as a danger to their children well before they are even born. White families are seen to be a mistake. Perfect but still a mistake in the making. Asian parents are seen as though they are preparing for an academic war. Hispanic/Latino/Mexican parents are probably the only ones seen in a decent light but even they are assumed to be absent all the the time and abusive. 

These are stereotypes we allow to exsit. No one is trying to change then at all. 
I am a black mom to a biracial little girl. 

I admit I freaking suck at being a parent. She just went to bed today without dinner.

Why? 

Cause I took her to church and struggled to keep her entertained as she screamed her little head off every time someone dared look her way. Of course this was the last 30 mins or so. Still she pooped herself out, refused to eat dinner, and instead went to bed. 

I am not doing this with a guide. To me not eating before going to bed is horrible. 

But it is a mistake many parents make. 

I can tell you about one time my daughter went to take a poop. I guess she got lost cause she ended up going into her room and taking a giant shit in a bucket. She hid that bucket then went to wipe her butt. Since there was piss in her potty (yes she made it to the potty to pee) I assumed she farted in her room. I didn’t find the poop bucket to close to an hour after. I had sprayed something in her room to kill the smell. It worked for that hour but came back. So I went to investigate and saw the bucket. 

Now here is the part where most people would assume I went sterotype black on her mocha ass but I didn’t. Instead I sat her down and talked to her. I made her clean the bucket and she wasn’t allowed to play with toys for a few hours. 

I am a black parent but I am not a sterotype. I am not a statistic and my race should not condemn me as one. 

I know many parents would have spanked or even beat the shit out of their kids for that. Not me!

What is found above is how I have seen people describe each race and their parebting styles. Of course these are told to me by people who are bot of that race. If they are that race then they are joking about how they survived this or that. 

I mean yay you parent beat you euth an extention cord and you lived to see another day. Sucks to so though that others did not. 

Abuse is not funny at all.

Saying one race is a better parent is not right.
Your race doesn’t automatically win you parenting points. 

Your past, your surrounding,  your support system is what decides your parenting style. 

If you grew up in an abusive home it does not mean you will automatically be a horrible parent.  Nor does it mean you will automatically be a good parent. There are so many factors that are in play in deciding  your parenting style. So why the fucking superman do people think that race is one of them. 

I have met some wonderful parents and I have met some shitty parents. I can assure you that race wasn’t the decuding factor.

So…why is this ok? 

Why is it ok to sterotype someone as being a shit parent?  

Why is this normal and accepted by everyone?

I do not rightly know but it needs to stop. 

Bleed in thy name

An often cliche question right before one dies

“Where is God”

The devote Christian cries.

Before the trigger is pulled

And brain matter is allowed to splatter 

A question is asked

Though the answer doesn’t matter.

As they run place to place

A students blood freash on thier face

They ask a question 

Though they don’t truly care

A cliched question

A poetic end

“Where is God

The supposed Saviour to us all?”

Only a bullet wound 

is the respected response. 

I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end. 

I know Christians who want to kill themselves.  Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion. 
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them. 

So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled

        “Where is God?”

Overtime 

The world of D&D has always fascinated me. Weaving storyline on the spot thay come a live as you act them out with friends and not so much friends. 

This is what I have longed to be apart of. Yet I have always found myself afraid to get into it. Like, I would google the crap out of it, but actually talking to others about it didn’t happen. 

It was my own dirty little secret. One that I knew my family and many of my friends would judge me for. 

I had zero faith in the game. Recently though I found myself talking to a friend who played often. A friend I used to hate because I felt they were uppity. A friend I judged way to harshly for just existing. 

Talking to them I learned a story I always wanted to tell but never had the courage to. I told him the gifts I didn’t dare to reach for and the dreams I wouldn’t allow myself to see. We had fun and laughed about nothing in particular. I made a friend out of someone I secretly hated. 

D&D brings people together and allows them to enjoy a world not of our own. Allows them to be whom they want. The mightiest dwarf, the kindest elf, The bravest Teifling. It does things to people. I used to not let myself enjoy these things but now I think I just might. 

Not My Problem

Do not judge me

I gave up 

I become what they wanted

A body covered in cuts.

We are told that suicide is wrong. That is it the failures way out. I once read a story where of someone attempted suicide they where shipped to an island with other people who failed. There there were no rules and they could either try again or live how they pleased. 

Their records were deleted and their families told they died. I am not sure how the goverment in this book got away with not having to show the body, but they did. 

So on this small island some people did decide to take their lives while other vowed to keep going. 

It was a strange story. As you may assume all hell broke lose until rules were in place. Rape, murder, theft, just your basic chaos happened till they devised their own goverment of sorts. 

Not going to lie, I didn’t get that far into this series. Once I was assured people would try to find some meaning to life I stopped. 

Interesting that this is the part I stopped at. I guess I could have read on once the more darker stuff had passed….but I didn’t.  

I have read two variations to this story. One was a manga and they other a adult novel. Both times I stopped reading once life reached some sort of order. 

I don’t delude myself into thinking it would be perfect. Instead I choose to never give it a chance. I didn’t try to see if it would get better because what was right in front of me only seemed to be getting worse. 

In these books order was found but I just knew that it would change quickly. I knew that someone would grow bored of that life and try to start problems again. What else can happen when you put a bunch of emotional people in the same room. Even if everyone is getting along there will always be that one person who craves chaos. Who has this hidden bloodlust that they can’t get rid off. 
So I stop.

I stop reading and instead give up on the series. I see the dark past and have an understanding of the future. I expect change but it is not the change I believe can help me. 

People might think I am strange for that. They might tell me that I need to stick around and let the story finish. That giving up before I can truly reach the ending it not giving the author credit. But I, as the reader, hold all the power. 

In a story filled with violence, I can choose when it will end. 
So when people look to suicide I do not see what they see. They find a failure, a victem, I see a person who took their life into their own hands. Yes they have left so much behind but they are finally free…at least…that is what they think. 
Now despite this understanding I do not believe that peoppe should harm themselves. I do believe that people should preserve. Giving up on a silly book is easy, but giving in to life is a whole other story. 

We readers hold the power. Our story may be filled with pain. We may not hold all the answers on how it could change. We may not be alone in our suffering. We could be sitting on an island surrounded by people who hate just like us. Emotional husk, beings left to rot. We may have tried to end our lives in the past and have it being held against us but we still hold the power. 

Change may not happen fast enough. Somewhere along the lines there will be thay one person trying to fuck it all up. But we, dear reader, will try our hardest to go on. Not just for ourselves but for those around us who also need a reason to go on. 

Do not ever think you are alone. Do not ever think that you are not worth it. We may not have the lives of writers but as readers we are still so very strong. So very very important. Because without us there is no them. Without us they world would be an even more crueler place.
I understand death. 

I understand wanting to shut the book and call it a day. 

I understand giving up.

I understand it all. 

Without those who suffer this world would not understand.
But fuck me !it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair that people must feel pain so the rest of the world can learn something called empathy and understanding. 
I once read a story where people were forced to live on an island after they tried to kill themselves. Their loved ones were told theu succeeded. Some were probably forgotten whole other remembered often. On this island people died, people were raped, people suffered. Forced to live a life they didn’t want just so they could teach others a lesson. 

It isn’t fair at all. 

I stopped reading that book once things started going good. I didn’t want to see people come along and try to break what was once broken. I didn’t want to see as they healed from their wounds and try again. I didn’t want to see them be happy, for others to try stop them. 

Instead I focused in them surviving. 

Cause in the end…no matter what they decided..they did all they could to make their life theres. 
How unfair is that?