Welcome • User Guide
ToS • Privacy • Canary
Donate • Bugs • License

©2025 Poal.co

727

Ransom fed my Father's Life, Do not deign to write a Mystery, Rather Crack-Cocaine and Modern Art, Could be a sufficient History,

Apollinaire and Conrad, were required reading, Yet Bache-Martin Elementary School, was the Education I was needing.

I was white, and they were Black, This was around 1990, A Philadelphia Tool, A lunch-bag snack, A cracker kid getting Grimy,

The Blacks, They were a feral lot, They let me know I was White, And to be absolutely honest, They were indeed, Quite Right.

I can't begrudge the past, Nor complain about the future, This leaves me with the bleeding Present, that I desperately need to suture.

Ransom fed my Father's Life, Do not deign to write a Mystery, Rather Crack-Cocaine and Modern Art, Could be a sufficient History, Apollinaire and Conrad, were required reading, Yet Bache-Martin Elementary School, was the Education I was needing. I was white, and they were Black, This was around 1990, A Philadelphia Tool, A lunch-bag snack, A cracker kid getting Grimy, The Blacks, They were a feral lot, They let me know I was White, And to be absolutely honest, They were indeed, Quite Right. I can't begrudge the past, Nor complain about the future, This leaves me with the bleeding Present, that I desperately need to suture.

(post is archived)

You are currently inside a comment thread.
Click here to see all the comments (15).
[–] • 1 pt

If parents have no expectations of you, but you have to make a living, and have a "striving" tendency, you burn yourself out because you have no guardrails or moderation

That is interesting.

I often attempt to search for ways in which my parents failed me, trying to blame someone or something for why my mind is the way it is.

Divorce at a young age, going to school with 90% negroes, growing up with a cat that always scratched me...

I don't think I will ever understand what made me the human I am, and why I wish so desperately to be anyone but me.

But that is life, right?

The unfortunate destiny we have is that we can only ever be ourselves, regardless of our wishes.

[–] • 1 pt

That is a conclusion most will never reach. It's like life's purpose is understanding oneself.

[–] • 1 pt

That is a conclusion most will never reach. It's like life's purpose is understanding oneself.

That is true and fair, we won't ever be anyone else.

But have you ever met anyone who is really happy being themself?

I think I have, but I deliberately ignored their message, because my ego tells me I must pretend to be something I am not.

[–] • 1 pt

I read a book recently called The Snow Leopard (by Peter Matthiessen). There is a Lama of Shey in the mountains of Nepal who seems happy.