The Solution
I identify as caucasian, not white. White seems to be a dirty word these days. I have a dark skin tone so few people realize that I am actually caucasian until I tell them. That is how I know that racism against white people is becoming more and more socially acceptable.
I also know that non-whites continue to suffer injustice and worse at all levels of society. However, when you allow your outrage to turn into anger and bitterness, you become the enemy; your own enemy. You become part of the problem. You are no longer part of the solution.
Another Crisis Line
So glad you are here! To allow time to accommodate all those that want to talk with us we reserve up to 90 minutes for each person. What would you like to talk about?
J:
Hi, I'm J-----!
Me:
Hi
Me:
I am more depressed than I have ever been in life. The more I look for help the worse I feel.
Me:
I spent my life caring for other people and now I have no one. I don't know what happened.
J:
I'm so sorry. :/ What happened to them?
Me:
I don't know.
Me:
They have their own lives to live.
Me:
They have families, and whole lives.
Me:
I took care of my nephew when his drug addicted mother abandoned him and his alcoholic father couldn't take care of him. His mom got sober and came back into his life resentful of me.
Me:
That's when I lost him. I recently asked him to go to dinner with me for my birthday and he slammed the door in my face.
Me:
I ended up with no children, no family, dead end job in a dead end place.
Me:
My life has always been challenging but I carried on. I can't do that anymore.
J:
That's heartbreaking. Hey, my shift ends in about 5 minutes. Would you like to be transferred? I will update them on what's up.
J:
What is keeping you going?
Me:
nothing
Me:
sure
Me:
you can transfer me
J:
Okay, hope your night goes better and you find something that is worth living for!
Me:
doubt it
The next guy wanted to pray for me.
I don’t believe in god.
Reflections on My 50th Birthday
Aches and pains are routine.
Naps are a wonderful treat.
Can't awake with out caffeine.
And oh, my tired feet.
Kids today, I shake my head.
The music is awful and loud.
Their best clothes hang in shreads.
Their minds a mysterious cloud.
In my day, we always did this
And we would never do that.
Those are the days I fondly miss.
The young me I love to laugh at.
I listened to thumping rock and roll.
I wore wild hair and faded jeans.
Riches and fame were my goal
As I lived that life in my dreams.
Sometimes, I think I have lived too long.
I have now become the sage.
I sing to the youth the familiar song,
"When I was your age ..."
The years, it seems, just flew by
As the hours slowly passed.
The old stories bring tears to my eyes,
But I have arrived at last.
Depression
Your oily skin is misery.
Your seductive hiss is despair.
You hide in the grass on the most glorious mornings
and the darkest nights.
I am forever the prey
that you mercilessly refuse to consume all at once.
I feel you in my veins
and cheerless heart.
I hear you in my mind as you coil around my thoughts.
I am confused and torn
between hate and dependence.
I want you to leave me but I cannot let you go.
Pretty Lady
Ugh. Sandra watched him enter the coffee shop where she stopped every morning before her first class of the day. She was sure that he knew her routine because she had "bumped into" him a lot lately. He always feigned surprise at seeing her there and that had become another thing about him that nauseated her.
Sandra first met him when she was waiting for a bus. She was happily alone and he took it upon himself to keep her company while she waited to go downtown. He sauntered over to her and asked for the time, calling her "pretty lady." She instantly felt like she was covered in slime. She had told him her name, but he called her "pretty lady" whenever they just happened to cross paths.
His name was Steve. He was probably twenty or so years older than her, and clearly dyed his hair black. He lived in a trailer at the outskirts of town while his ex-wife and kids lived two states away. Sandra hadn't asked for these details of his life. He simply carried on one side of a conversation that they had never had.
Sandra sighed, giving up on the coffee place and went to the donut shop on the other side of the strip mall. The coffee wasn't as good, but she needed more caffeine before heading to school. While she waited in line smelling the sickening sweet aroma of donuts, a familiar voice came from behind her.
"Well, good morning pretty lady!"