I’m realizing why I can’t write. I’ve locked myself away. I’ve hidden my deepest thoughts in the darkest corner of my mind. I was afraid of judgment until I then realized that you don’t read my shit anyway.
Disclaimer: Let me start by saying that I am in no way suicidal. So if I died in police custody, it was not a suicide. I have no desire to appear as a martyr for equality; I do not wish to die.
I am an emotional and tortured spirit. But I meditate and pray for inward peace. I have two beautiful little girls that I wish to see blossom in ways I never thought to be possible for me. They are the light in my smile and the eye of my storm.
I write and vent my emotions as a way of clearing my negative energy. No worries people, I may be sad and angry but I am by no means suicidal.