Hate is everywhere. That’s fact. All of us have mentioned the word “hate” in our speech or writing at some point – maybe not even seriously.
Over fifty people were massacred two Sundays at night club in Orlando, FL. Why? Why would someone do that? Because he hated LGBT+ people. The murderer saw something that triggered his hatred and acted on pure rage. There are many debates about it actually being a terrorist attack, though I personally believe it was an attack on queer folk.
Discrimination and inequality are some of the main reasons people don’t often speak up about certain things. Mental illness, being queer, race, nationality – these are just a few examples. Groups are often generalized.
“Of course they vote for that candidate, they’re black.” I bet it’s quite possible to find two people of the same race voting for two different people. Shocking, I know. Most people vote according to what they believe in or see on the news.
“I don’t want my son to dress like a girl; that’s just not right!” Yes, because ALL girls dress exactly the same. Which girl doesn’t like dresses and frills? Most things related to girls or boys are related to culture.
I have Bipolar II. “So you get angry a lot? You’re emotional and moody I bet!”
Not many people know what really goes on. Depression can hold onto me for weeks, drowning me in waves of negative feelings. The water calms for about a week, allowing me to float above those emotions, and only positivity embraces me. Sometimes it rocks me instead, irritating me. The wind then picks up, and the cycle continues.
Some people even forget I have PTSD. It’s not severe, yet it still influences everything. I still dream of being pinned down by a demon with a wicked grin. I still see that demon temporarily possessing men who look like him. Something beyond my control causes me to panic, to avoid people. Others often think I appear as an angry bitch.
I’m just being cautious. Trust is hard to achieve.
To be honest, love and happiness are foreign languages to me. I do not know what they are or how they feel.
I am jobless. I am not lazy. There are days where I believe I can conquer the world, days where I want to watch it burn, and days where I’d be better off gone.
Horrible events like the shooting in Orlando reminds me why I don’t always step forward with who I REALLY am. I’ll get judgemental glances or heartless words thrown at me. What is the point of speaking up? No one has to know your life.
Yet people speak. Why? Why do people speak? To advocate. To educate. To inspire.
I want to sing with them, joining in their chorus.
My name is Stephy. I’m a 20-something bisexual living with mental illness, struggling with back pain. I miss my family up north, my friends up north and my best friend to the west. I play video games, watch anime, makeup worlds in my head, and occasionally dress as characters. I’m quirky, creative, unpredictable, and too kind-hearted.
This is me.