December 20, 2007

Dear Daddy,


I know you are dead, but I think writing to you in a diary will help me clean up all the turmoil gathered in my head and heart. Daddy, I’m scared. Anger is building up inside me, and I want to hurt myself. Kids at school make fun of me cuz I’m black and don’t have the money. I don’t want to find anybody around me, yet at the same time I want those bullies to know how much it hurts. I used to love my identity, but now it hurts to be me. I simply walk to the bathroom, and kids who ditch snicker by me as I walk. They don’t even know my name, but just call me Black Girl. It’s a strange feeling I have in my mind…a feeling that I am the worst of all kind. I hold myself back from yelling at others, and identify myself as the biggest mourners. Sometimes, it feels as if I am drowning in pain. Tears come out as cursed rain. It’s a curse. I’m a curse. It feels like I opened myself to an endless void of pain, misery, and tears.
Everyday I go through H*ll trying to live my life like a normal person, but I just want to break down and cry. When I'm finally at home and alone and I can without embarrassing myself I can't. It's like my body doesn't have the energy. It's like living in a shell. I've tried everything. My love for poetry is only hurting me. People call me a black nerd when I got my poem published on the school newspaper. Why is this happening?
I wish to God every night that he would grant me that one simple wish, but he never listens. I'm a devout Christian but it seems to me that He just doesn't listen. I never ask for much really. Just small things like looking over certain people, but my request never gets through. It's like he stops listening when I start to talk. Mom is no help either. I remember asking Mom if we can talk about school because I really needed her, but she just shunned me. She said, “Layla, there are more important things than school.” When I protested, she held her hand up and told me to go. It hurt. I just ran to my bedroom like they do in the movies, and sobbed on my bed cuz my own MOTHER wouldn’t listen to me. Maybe she’s hurting too? Oh whatever.

Why doesn’t someone end my pain by killing me so I can join you Daddy?









Love Your Daughter,










Layla