You wouldn’t believe the ink. The ink bled and formed into words that painted a terrifying picture.
My journal is now the blackest and darkest hole.
This is the way, I was afraid to look. In the the first picture, you see me with my thumbs up. That was me trying to keep my hopes high of a less bruttal future. You may not know but I was bullied because I didn’t have nice skin like everyone else. I used to cover the hell out of my body, because I was uncomfortable with it. At that point, I was only breaking out of that. I was trying really hard not to be insecure and self conscious, but I couldn’t help the habit. I still feel like that next to friends that had fair skin. I used to want to be white because I was taught (outside of home) that being fair skinned, whether you were american, of a light skinned latina, or anything, was beauty and the best way to be beautiful. I told my dad a long time ago when I was younger ” Daddy, I wish I was white.” He blew up at me and couldn’t even believe those horrifying words. (if you didn’t know, I am half Black and Half Japanese) At first he couldn’t make words and he pointed at the TV. He said, “You see that woman, do you notice, that her skin is not naturally that color? That is because she is doing everything she can to be your skin color. And you want to be fair skinned? Embrace what your mom and I gave you, because you’re of the few who have this.” That literally almost brought him to tears and I was horribly confused. I was always taught otherwise, that my skin is horrible, that I am not beautiful, there was no way that I would ever get out of this horrible state I was in. My dad knew how horrible it must have been for me, when I would come home silent from the bullies at school that day. He took initiative and my skin,no longer has pimples, he made me proud of my skin color, he and my mom both relentlessly, did what they could to help my self esteem. My mom would go shopping for me and take me to get my hair straight permed. My dad would take care of my skin, my brother as well would very willingly do what we could to keep me in shape without forcing me. And after all this time, I am this. I still feel insecure, but I fought to be here. My friends were supportive as well, and although it didn’t always help, they were there and that is all I needed.
Please never let it get to you. I still think you’re beautiful and I promise I know what it’s like not to believe it, but if I know it’s true you soon will too.