Just trying to figure my shit out right now.
I lost alot in one year, and I haven't really accomplished much in 20 years of my life. I'm scared of being another statistic or stereotype, but with the way I act already, it doesn't really help. I guess I try my best to just let it roll off my back, but I end up reinforcing everyones falsified opinions in the long run. I used to want to be a theorhetical astrophysicist, but it seemed almost unecessary because I don't have anything to add to the global commentary, you know? Everything I've said, written, done, it doesn't feel like it came from me, but channelled from some other long gone soul. I'm having a major identity crisis but I don't have time to figure shit out.
I'm a man, thats one thing. But I'm a black man. A black man in america, so I have twice as much I have to do to prove myself. But when I'm sitting here being diagnosed with a million different mental illnesses, its kind of hard. Its one thing to be mentally ill, people see you as broken and sub-human. But to be black, its... its alot worse.
I got so much pressure on my back. Pressure I shouldn't have on me.
Pressure that I shouldn't even allow to phase me.
Its just a scary thought that most women in my life won't even love me for my mind, my heart, my innermost self, but just for the sake of some preconceived notion that I may be more well-endowed compared to most men.
Will no one but me be able to see the beautiful dreams that linger on in my mind? Or am I insane to even see the things that I once saw?