The Vicious Cycle Of Undiagnosed Pain

They will have become masterful at blaming their low energy on work, or stress, but they will never admit to feeling choked and oppressed by their lives. They will never speak about taking breaks to cry at work in the bathroom, they won’t tell you the countless hours they spend researching the easiest way to die, and they damn sure will not share the drafts of the suicide note they’ve edited hundreds of times. You will never know until you are crying over them as they lay in their casket wondering how this could have happened.

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Accepting Mental Illness

I isolated myself to the point of no words, and I became proficient at being okay, fine and just tired. But in reality I was drowning, I was in unimaginable amounts of pain and I was ashamed, embarrassed too scared to speak up because I felt worthless. It’s been hard and it is hard to write to these things about myself but I must. Talking about this here helps me and I know it will help people like me because I know I’m not the only one who has been too strong, for too long but falling apart behind closed doors.

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Black Boy Joy

I wish we lived in a world where young black boys were seen as human beings we MUST protect at all costs. It’s shameful, and hurtful the way black boys are marginalized and labeled almost from birth as menaces to society before they can formulate their sentences correctly. Black boy joy makes the world a better place because when we have multiples roses growing from concrete, we will eventually have rose gardens where death and poverty previously prevailed.

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