May 2nd, 1919. I'm dead. Not Physically, mentally. I've lost myself, found myself and lost myself again. Stuck in the void of the drugs I take, the drugs I hold closer than anyone near me. I've isolated myself to the point where I feel numb. I'm running in circles, I'm tired of it. I am tired of feeling so lost and unaccepted in a society where you’re judged for being yourself. 

I wake up to the sound of my mother’s voice cracking mid-yell. “We have nothing. No food, no money, for god sake do you plan on drinking your life away and letting your own family suffer!? ” mother is attempting to get through her sentences without breaking down completely, I can hear her voice giving up on her.

 My room door slowly creaks open  ¨mom and dad are at it again.¨ My younger sister Nadia whimpers as she anxiously sits on the side of the bed letting the springs give out a shriek. “What are we going to do?” she says while staring at my broken down door, abused from all the punches and times the man has thrown us around into it for not “staying out of the adults problems.” My stomach growls and begs for food. I feel selfish and self-absorbed for using the last of the money I had, on myself and not on both me and my sister Nadia. I look at her, cluelessly, while her eyes give me a ghost-dead stare. She always expects me to do something. As if I can fix her whole world's problems. Deep down we both know there is nothing we can do, nothing at all. We are stuck in our own world. It feels as if we are slowly sinking in quicksand, yet the more we try to fix our problems the more we get sucked in. Our dreams are being swallowed, and our worst nightmares have come alive to chase us down the wrong path, which is the only path that seems like we both have left. “I'm not sure what to do now, Nadia. You know if I go out there he will not only beat me but it'll bring him on to you too. Have you not learned that by now?”  Her eyes are hopelessly looking around the room for a way out. We are barricaded in this jail like cell as if we were prisoners facing life for an unjust case. I suck it up and go out there anyway. I couldn't handle Nadia's watery eyes looming over me with despair.

 I walk into the trashed living room. The floor was covered in shattered beer bottles, the couches were flipped and the tv was punched in. I turn to find Momma uncontrollably crying on the floor, she looks up at me, her beautiful face is beat and bruised as if she was only a punching bag to the man. I turn around and see Nadia examining the room, I'm not surprised with the fact that she is not even fazed by the condition of the room, she then walks up to Momma and pulls us both into a hug so tight It feels as if we are glued together, close like we were once before. 

May 4th, 1919. I feel myself straying off into my own world again. I can't keep on doing this. I wish I was a lighter skin color than this. I'm ugly and nobody wants me. Every day I get bullied for being this color and showing off my true identity. Why can't I just be who I want to be without being hurt physically and verbally. I deserve to be treated like everyone else. I deserve to like who I want to like. I don't know how much longer I can take this.

I walk home from school in the pouring rain, Nadia stayed home today she claimed she was feeling nauseous in the morning, I hope her and Momma are okay. I turn the corner and walk down the street of my house, my eyes land on Momma holding Nadia at the torn down steps of the front porch. The man must have kicked us out again. I run to them but right as I get to Momma and Nadia, the man comes out and drags them both inside “No faggot will ever live in my house!” he shouts as he slams the door locked. I then hear Nadia screaming her lungs out, shouting for me to help. I start to bang on the door so hard I feel my hands throbbing with pain. Right, when I start to give up he flings open the door, belt in one hand and my journal in the other. This is it. I think to myself. This is really it, he is going to beat me until my last breath. He strikes once, and then again and again. I feel my body giving up on me as I lay on the steps, covered in my own feces and blood. The man rips out the pages of my journal and throws it all at my face, then suddenly, everything fades to black.

“April 5th, 1919. To Momma and Nadia: If found, do NOT read until either, given or I am no longer with the both of you. I want to start off with letting you both know how much I love you and how much I had always tried my best to show it. 

Nadia, always remember that you are special. You are important. You are good enough. You do matter. You are not an option or a 2nd choice. You are the answer to someone's prayer. you are someone's future. You will find your way out of the dark places you get stuck in. please don't give up. You will figure out your purpose. You will graduate and become successful. You will find a career that makes you happy. Relax and stop stressing out because you are where you should be. Doing what you are supposed to be doing right now, everything will fall into place soon.

Momma, Give yourself credit for everything you have made it through that you thought would break you. Be proud of yourself for pushing through the days that you thought you wouldn't make it past. Realize all the good changes you have made and how far you have come because no matter how broken you feel, you can put yourself together with self-love. It is not always going to be easy and it is not going to happen overnight but you are strong enough to fill the crack in your heart with unbreakable and unconditional love. Please always remember that I am here with you through energy and spirit, I love you.