I am thinking about that saying, you can’t put a Band-Aid over things, A Band-aid solution. You need to heal it from the core. But like these things don’t have ends to the holes they occupy. They just consume, and Band-Aids are really all we've got. I never understood that saying because if we knew the core, then like why would we need Band-Aids in the first place? Band-Aids have a time and a place. And they are the most used first aid kit item, so they have a purpose. Connecting ripped skin together with a bandage is way more useful than looking at it through a microscope and finding the tear marks. Or remembering who cut you. It kind of at some point, becomes irrelevant.

Ms. Frizzle - The Magic School Bus Wiki

We need to worship our NYPD overlords and pray they woke up happy today. And everyday, because please no murders today okay, thank you.

I don’t control your eyes or your thoughts, but they still hurt. I don’t want you to look at me unless you want to give me money. Don’t talk to me unless you want to give me money. I don’t want to be a prostitute, but I don’t want to be involuntarily objectified either. If I’m already being consumed I’d rather get paid, because right now I don’t get anything out of the exchange besides anxiety. I don’t think I’m going to get reparations, I don’t think I’ll get anything in this life, and honestly I don’t think it matters. People are upset because they are experiencing aspects of the Black experience, with the random firings, the downsizing, the replacements. And although it makes me sad, it also makes me laugh. We always said this system hurts everyone. No one is free until everyone is free. But you didn’t want to listen.

You thought you were white above it, but you’re not. None of us are. Race is a social thing, and having BIPOCs in leadership makes environments better for everyone. You thought white supremacy would save you, that it would spare you. It spares no one. Nobody. Listen to Black women, you dumb hoe. Especially those who were able to achieve something in this stupid capitalist hellhole. Don’t go and be racist about it, don’t say they didn’t earn it. They worked harder than you ever could, you pussy. This is getting nasty but I don’t even care. I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed in the whites. I’m disappointed in the white-adjacent. I’m disappointed in the people of not-significant color. I’m disappointed in the colorists. I’m disappointed in the misogynists. I’m disappointed in the woke. I’m disappointed in the anti-establishment posers. Y’all are dead-ass posers, and the sad thing is I still care for you. I’m disappointed, not hopeless. I just don’t know how far y’all are gonna take this and pretend you’re okay before you stop seeing yourself with the oppressor. It’s not cute, it’s not classy, it’s not smart, it’s literally ignorance for the sake of professional gain. It grosses me out that you can use your struggle and then turn around and erase those who are still struggling too. We are not all ships. We are in relationships. And when one person sinks we all sink. Even if you isolate yourself from them, you’re still imprinted by the experience.

Don’t forget that your experiences are valid. Don’t erase your experience, your parents’ experience, your friends’ experiences just to save yourself. I never wanted to be Tom Hanks in Castaway. I would have rather died than be the only one to survive trauma and heartbreak, to fight all the odds, make it back, and find out you’re irrelevant. Was Rose happy when she let go of her man? No, that bitch was traumatized her entire life. Don’t let people go. Don’t let them fall into the ocean just to float away. The only problem is it’s hard to juggle two opposing morals and we are in the largest prison to ever exist. Will I give money to who needs it? No, because it hurts me. But I will try not to forget them, not to erase or ignore their struggle, because it’s not far from mine. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t, but I don’t want to forget what could be me. Face your fears, don’t run from what makes you uncomfortable, don’t doubt your place in the ship. The relationship. The relationship is being hit by a hurricane.

Stop sucking the dick of the oppressor and hold hands with the oppressed. I don’t care about agro police. They clearly hate their lives. They clearly don’t have control over their futures. They clearly need people to look up to them and be proud the way daddy never was. Well-rounded people don’t use power to hurt others. Why would they? They have love in their lives. I am not only policed, I am fucking ignored. I am forgotten. It is so beautiful here, in the land of the policed, prostituted, ignored, and forgotten.

Warning ABUSE

I am probably gonna be emo as fuck. I am just processing a lot. I started working on my posture recently because I have been in a lot of pain. My neck, my back my pussy, and crack are all in the wrong places, and I think it’s because I have a Rib Flare and my first rib is out of place. Yes, I did find out about this on TikTok, but who cares? I dont have any critical thinking skills left due to my dependence on Chat GPT to help me figure out why my Medeka fishes buthole is red. I am tired of looking on Reddit. But that’s another complaint

Anyway, I decided to fix my posture, and I noticed that my hips are also tight. I stretched the fuck out of them the past three days. And how I understand why they say that trauma is in the center of the hips. Or is stored there, idk. I believe it. I usually do more middle split-based stretches, but then I was doing these lunges. PSOAS MUSCLES

Once I started stretching and shit, I got transported back to when I used to do gymnastics. Before I decided it was a posture thing - I was reminded of this thing called nerve flossing/nerve glides. My pain was mostly nerve-based, because it radiated down my arm from my neck. The stretches reminded me of my gymnastic days.

If you have ever seen a gymnast, they have to be really straight and pointy. A lot of the stretches were our warm-ups. I had a flashback to my coaches tapping my body and tuck your chin, clench your butt, and lift from the top of your head, amongst other oddly specific things.

Thinking of it made me happy and sad at the same time. So I had to process.

This has to do with my sister because:

She traumatized me.

She made me quit gymnastics.

Therefore, she is evil.

I think she has some control issues, but I need to stop diagnosing people with mental illnesses.

Gymnastics is an intense ass sport. I practiced 4 hours a day 5 days a week as an 11-year-old. And more during the summer, like 8am - 8pm type thing. I dont remember a time I wasn’t in the gym. The gym for me wasnt about being the best it’s where all my friends were. It’s where I can jump on a trampoline and jump off a springboard and flip and shit. It was fun. I had a childlike lack of fear, so I was doing crazy shit as a kid. Like this:

It's a camera, but trust me. I didn’t realize how hard it was until adulthood because I was so young, and my coach was teaching me because I was bored.

Anyway, my sister failed to help me. She moved in under the guise of being my caretaker, but she completely ignored my only after-school activity, gymnastics. I knew how to get to the gym because I started going there by myself at 10. But since practice was 4 hours, it ended at 8p,m sometimes 9 pm, and my student's NYC metrocard didn’t run after 8:30. She never gave me any money, and she never picked me up. I had to every week day find a way home. Sometimes my coach drove me home, sometimes a friends mom, sometimes I borrowed money so I can take a cab one time I hopped the train. That was the scariest thing I ever did at that point. I cried a lot.

I didnt have this issue before my mom got sick. She would pick me up, and take me home. Because it was at night, and I was a child. I have, like my mom did. I didn’t really want to quit, but I couldn’t go to level 9 bc I didnt do a competition in New York. I could only make it to one in Pennsylvania because my coach drove me. How can I level up next year if my bum ass sister is still gonna be the one who is in charge of me. I was also embarrased. I went from being a normal team member to having a major life crisis, and no one to step in. My coaches did try, and I know this because 1, I know there character and 2 I talked to my sister. I was like I am sure they came over to tell you how to support me better, and she said they did. She chose not to tho, and I don’t know why. At that point, the gym gave me a scholarship, so I didnt have to pay because I had been going there since I was 4. It was pretty-much a sure college scholarship opportunity that she just left me to fail. And when I stopped going because of the stress and fear of finding my way home alone at 11 she said, “Good, I was worried you wouldn’t have a neck.”

For years, I tried to be okay with it, but I am not. This wasn’t the last time she failed me as my “guardian”; it was just the first time I realized that I had to figure out my life alone, literally. She also would not allow me to have an allowance, which is crazy because I had out-lunch and had to pay for it with my own money.

I cried today because tomorrow is my birthday. My sister’s is 4 days before mine. 15 years and 4 days. Every year, I get older and think about how old I would have been if I were my sister. So around 15 - 16. I never could understand how you looked at a child the way that she looked at me. Until today, when I realized:

I don’t remember a lot of my childhood between 12 - 18. I am sure it’s because of the trauma and neglect I experienced. I always asked my mom to apologize to my sister for her childhood, because I hoped that if she did, my sister would be nicer to me. The only thing I could rationalize at that time was that mom was meaner to her as a kid than me, and maybe if she was accountable, then she would be nicer to me. I don’t know, that’s kid logic, trying to make sense of a relationship before the kid was born. That’s how desperate I was to resolve this, so I could at least have some support from her.

I do sincerely believe that traumatic events that your brain has buried reveal themselves when you are in a safer place to process them. I don’t think I would have ever even gotten there if I hadn't cut her out of my life 6 months ago, for kidnapping my mother’s ashes and death certificate. I have told her multiple times that what she did hurt me, the stuff I could remember, but she never wanted to acknowledge it. That’s fine - for her.

For me, it really affected the way I process my feelings, my relationships, and my accomplishments. I still feel guilty when I talk about positive things in my life. Or guilty when I do well. Growing up, I was always bad and was punished for it but I never did a good job. Even when I got my Master’s, she said she wanted to get her PHD — in what you work in HR. Besides the fact that she yelled at me for weeks for even thinking of getting into an MFA Program and winning scholarship money. My mom was so proud of me, but my sister went on a tirade.

Even when I started teaching, she said she wanted to also. It’s weird because I do feel like she competes with me, but I am a whole person, younger than you. We are in different generations.

She was only O.K. with me when I helped her with her friendship drama. I was 16 bro, she would have been 31. The older and older I get, the less I can justify what happened. I want to, but then I would continue to erase my past. I have always wanted to say that she introduced me to art by taking an art class and me stealing her paints, and painting on the back of my mother’s headboard. I can say that. Besides that, I always wondered who drew nipples on this sketch I had with a lady in a bathing suit. It could have only been her. She ruined it, and confused me for years. I will probably process this relationship for the rest of my life, but I do want to say, to myself at least, she was always a cunt - she will always be a cunt, and that makes me sad. I am sad she has a child. I am sad that the child probably hates me. I hope to reach out when he is older.