I am angry.

Angry about a lot of things.

About life.

About myself.

Words cannot describe what rage I feel inside.

But I figured, I'd try.

At least for my own sanity.

My own material circumstances have gone to the gutter.

I guess we can start there.

I could blame the government, and that would be true.

After all, for it not for “Orange in Chief”, I would still be in school pursuing higher education.

I could also blame my alma mater, and that would be true too.

As were it not for them, I would have at least felt assurance in the fact that my school and workplace valued my labor enough to tend to my wellbeing.

But alas, we don't live in that reality.

I don't live in that reality.

I'm not really sure what to do.

I mean, I'm trying.

I try to find jobs and I have some prospects lined up.

I lean into my community, both by blood and through a sense of found-ness.

And my general resilience developed through growing up as a multiply marginalized person has allowed me to see through the course thus far.

So, I guess, it could be a lot worse.

Still, I'm angry.

Angry at what could have been.

I am part of a generation of peoples who were told from school-age that the world was our oyster.

That if we simply did everything right, we would thrive.

And I did do everything right.

And then some.

I have two degrees to prove it.

So where is the thrilling life that I was promised?

Was it all a dream?

Of course it was.

It was always a dream.

Something to aspire towards but in reality was only available for a select few.

Unfortunately that select few does not include those that look like me.

What a shame.

Actually shame is a nice way to put it.

No words can describe it.

Perhaps travesty is a better word but even that is enough.

Haunting, maybe.

Like the haunting way I look these days, as I am told by well-meaning people in my community.

They are right.

I am haunted. By many things.

By the present.

By the past.

By life.

All of which are dictated by the powers that be.

Still, I find myself rising.

Every day, I wake up still wondering how I'm still alive.

Perhaps it's because miraculously I still care.

Something that I am learning increasingly is that it is a lost art.

I find that my internal compass...

...my life purpose, if you will...

is what consistently keeps me burning.

Like a gentle candle keeping me steadily warm as I wade through a dark, frigid cave.

(can you tell I'm cold right now? lol)

So if that's what keeping me alive?

I say, so be it.

So be it.

Because if someone isn't gonna stay alive and fight the good fight.

Then who will?

And I don't want to leave this Earth before making it better than when I arrived.

So I'll stay awhile longer.

I don't know how long.

But until my soul says it is done.

So shall I stay.

And so mote it be.

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