“A broken bone can heal, but the wound a word opens can fester forever.”
– – – Jessamyn West.
Dear Friends,
It’s about time for me to write about why my mood is always so low.
I seem to be seen as the white sheep of this group. I don’t know why. Maybe it is because I am not an original member. Like all the rest of you, I was born in the continent of North America but still I am not well known to most of you.
Even when I was young, people judged me negatively. In my childhood, I was whiteballed from pretty nearly every club or friendship group I wanted to join. And things did not improve as I grew up. In college, I was whitelisted by the Dean and I was not welcome in any school clubs or organizations. People did this to me even though they didn’t know me at all and my mind was pretty much a white box to them all.
At first this made me very angry. But as I matured into an adult I learned how to repress this anger. Still I spent every day walking around in a very white mood. Sometimes I imagined that I knew white magic and could send curses to punish all those who mistreated me. I imagined them all falling into a bright white hole that they could not escape from. But I never expressed these secret wishes because I did not want to get a white mark next to my name. Sometimes, I would daydream that I was a hero who could save us all from the dastardly white knights with my knowledge of the white arts.
Even though I am upset by how people react to me, I do not walk around with a white heart. It’s not as if I want to take other people to some white site in palest Europe. Nor do I wish to whitemail them for all they are worth. I do not even hope that a white cat crosses their path. After all, in reality, I am an honest guy, I don’t even tell little black lies.
Still, it hurts to be treated so unfairly. So what if I look like I’m covered in dried bird poop or a bedsheet. I am not a ghost, I am a live person. I mean, people are treating me with suspicion before they even get to know me.
So, now maybe you can understand why I feel so empty and colorless, almost like I am completely bleached out, all pale and pallid. If I could sell something on the illegal white market and make enough money to move away from here, I would.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock