I am…upset. I am lonely. Mad at the world. Mad at myself. Thinking about the future. Thinking about now. I am missing my mother. Missing my home. I am crying inside, and wearing a scowl. I am talking to a friend. Missing him very much. Sitting with one foot up, and the other folded underneath me. I am listening to music while typing on my laptop. I am wondering if I should think or not. If I should let it go, or not. Trying not to be upset, to breathe and not stress. To remember what my mother told me. To be like her. Live for myself and not let people worry me. Not let anything worry me. Because people will always have something to say. No matter what. That’s what her grandmother told her. I love her grandmother. I wish I had met her. Wish she hadn’t died before I was born.
I am going to a funeral, on my sister’s birthday. I don’t like that. But no one else seems to notice. That it’s my sister’s birthday. And my grandfather is going to be buried on that day. No one has said anything. I am…in love. With something that doesn’t exist. I want to be in love. To live in dreams that are real. To like reality.
I am black. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I am Jamaican. And I want to go back there. Though I’m scared. I’m a coward anyway. I scare easily. But sometimes I just don’t care. I am twenty, soon to be twenty-one. That is, if I live that long. I always think like that. Where do I see myself in five years? I could be dead in two weeks. I could die tomorrow. I want to be a social worker. That’s it. I don’t “see” anything else. Married. No. Children. No. I don’t care one way or the other. It may or may not happen. And I won’t mind either way. If it should happen it will. If it shouldn’t then it won’t. Not a big believer in fate but…que sera sera.