Disclaimer: Body Shaming is rude, derogatory & insulting. Racism against the black community is distressing, vicious & dreadful.
*****************************************
Told to stop eating a lot.
I’m getting “fat” or I’m too “fat”.
Stopped eating and was told I’m getting “skinny” or I’m too “skinny”.
When I was skinny I was told to put on weight.
When I was fat I was told to lose some weight.
When will body shaming stop!!!!!!!!!!???
Why can’t people realize that body shaming is offensive and will cause harm?
Negative words are life consuming.
Tired, so tired.
I don’t think you understand how it feels until you’re in the same position.
Words are very powerful and people tend to say whatever and don’t care.
Ugh.
People out here are not happy in their skin and body.
Why?
Because society bullied so many individuals into changing their body, skin and personalities.
Society feeds their mind into changing.
Changing because the acceptance rates are low.
Why can’t it stop?
Why care so much about someone’s body shape?
Why are people bullied?
Why are you bullying?
Why do you hate?
Why do others hate?
Why kill based on sexual preference, body image and race?
So many questions BUT NOBODY KNOWS THE ANSWERS.
Why?
Because society is filled with hatred, discrimination and bias individuals.
It can’t be stopped, it’s going to keep on happening.
That’s the sick cycle of this cruel world we live in.
*****************************************
World so cruel, killing here, killing there.
Being black is not a crime, I’m so mad!!!!!
So mad that too many black people are out here dying!!!!!
Blacks are wrongfully convicted, blamed and killed.
For what?
Huh.
For what?
I bet you don’t have or know the answer.
Slavery abolish years ago.
But sadly the cycle of racism will not end.
I need it to end!!!!!
Research how many blacks are killed worldwide and you’ll see.
You’ll see that discrimination against blacks are increasing drastically.
I’m tired, so tired.
Tired of the senseless killings.
Senseless hatred.
We are all one.
Don’t forget why you were created.
Created for a purpose to do good NOT bad.
To help, NOT judge anyone.
Ohh, the world would be a better place if we all love, accept and unite.
But half of the population are competing against each other.
Competing negatively.
Ugh, you see how sick the world is.
Wake up, Open your eyes.
Look around you!!!!!
We are here for a good time.
Not a long time.
Life is too short.
Too short to be holding grudges & deep hatred within.
Too short to think you’re better than everyone.
Well, hello think again.
You’re not better than anyone!!!
NOBODY IS PERFECT.
Why are you fighting & hyping?
We all bleed the same.
Few things that are different:
Our skin tone, religion, culture, personality & mindset
*****************************************
Gosh, is it too much to ask for peace, love and acceptance????
I have so much more I need to say.
So much on my mind!!!
But I’m tired, so tired.
I don’t want to leave unspoken words behind.
So much to say, but I’ll leave it here.
“Be humble & kind”.
*****************************************
Credit
https://www.womeninbiznetwork.com/you-are-never-alone-in-darkness-there-is-always-light/
About the Creator
Allandra-M
Welcome to my world💫
Writing is my therapy🦋
-Aspiring Army Nurse & Nurse Practitioner👩🏾⚕️💉
- Mental Health Advocate💪🏾❤️🧠
-Inquire: [email protected]
-Instagram: @thegiftedauthor
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨.
All rights reserved©
Keep reading
More stories from Allandra-M and writers in Poets and other communities.
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.