Today will continue to be really hard.
But I am a WASP. Actually a honey bee with wasps in her honeycomb.
I want to call my mom but I can’t because she retardedly moved out of the country and I don’t really forgive her while at the same time am kind of grateful. She will want to ‘google hang-out’ and I am busy and fkthat
I want to call my one bestie but she is a WASP like me and I already know what she will say- “I’m sorry honey-why don’t you yoga or feng shui or something lame. And don’t forget to not complain.”
I want to call my other bestie that abandoned me because I voted for Trump and believes that it’s okay to bomb London even though she is British. I think about telling her it’s no big deal how vile she was to me and angry she was about me sharing Black Pigeon Speaks videos and how she made a big show of defriending me but then when I think of it I can’t help but think of saying- You coward! You f^cking coward! You weakling! You scum! You were my friend? I don’t think so! You nearly fainted every time you came to my neighborhood bc diversity! Go home! And she is half Polish. I am not. I am anglo af. So I don’t.
Being Anglo is weird. I see many other people I care about and listen to describe things that I don’t have the capacity to share. I have to hold inside. The level of shame when I transgress is profound.
I also know how powerful my people are. That our kindness has been mistaken for compliance. If I-a Hello Kitty-type spoiled grill has learned to hate the rest of the anglo world has as well. And we will hate like we do everything else- shockingly superior to the lame races.