I always laughed as a child when someone would say "read between the lines." It always sounded so silly. As an adult, I can't stand cliches, sappy metaphors and overused catchphrases. I think that is my daily struggle. My educated friends have mastered reading, even skewing the lines, but true intelligence is all about viewing what lies between. Not metaphorically, but literally. Today I saw a very long post, filled with self righteousness and pride. The likes piled up and comments of support came from many, especially family members. I sat and read, then read again and again. I read until the lines no longer mattered and what was between them shined through. Apology, guilt, excuses for not being the person one wants to appear to be. A fake, fixing his mask like it's Halloween. The facade is well known and well documented. The chuckles come from all sides, even those closest. So many who are quick to judge also fall victim to the charms of those who seem so sincere. I scroll down, to the innocently aloof. The one who needs so many answers to life's such arduous questions. The help comes in the form of support, relief, answers to questions where the answer isn't only known, but the next step has already been taken. The trap has already been set. The victims already known. All a game, to feed that ravenous appetite for attention. Scroll even further to find the philosophical damsel in distress. One night alone and her loins ache to be touched, but we all know, should one ever attempt such a frivolous act, the scene turns one of vulnerability. The pleading to be taken, quickly turn into accusations of use. Not abuse mind you, but use; friendship that has crossed a line that was never there to begin with. They once were spoken, but now they are printed for all to see. The hope is not to snare one in her trap, but to get as many as possible. To parade around, like worthless dogs, to fulfill some twisted emotion where love is supposed to be. Who knows why we bother. Or maybe I shouldn't assume that it is a bother for others. Maybe they all share these desires, to be liked, to be noticed, to be admired, for everything they are not. I drift, away. Two hundred plus miles, so often returning to compete in this game I despise, only now, I quit.
This was a post I wrote on Facebook after surprisingly not seeing any moaning about the Documentary by Jose Antonio Vargas, titled White People Dayyum! I just scrolled my timeline and not a single white person got their feelings hurt by White People. I unfortunately haven't seen it, but the number of fake accounts that popped up on twitter, tells me it was a damn good show. Here's the thing. If someone of color aka non-white says "White Privilege," are you offended? If you said yes, then you are exhibiting white privilege. It has nothing to do with how hard you work or study, how you stayed out of trouble, because here's the thing, that is entirely the point. Somewhere out there, there are 100 Black, Spanish, Native American, Arab, Asian, who worked and studied as hard as you and never got in trouble, but they don't have what you "earned" or achieved. Stop looking at the one person you know who isn't white that achieved as your benchmark. Loo...
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