I grew up with rich white boys
Every day was a disappointment from a different one. I tried to see the person in them. They could be funny, but their jokes could hurt sometimes. At the beginning, I confronted them, tried to discuss and found an understanding. But all their answers were meant as a joke, not to make me laugh, but to make their group laugh at the absurdity of it. Bigger the absurdity, bigger the laughter, the angrier I was. A real atrocity but so far from them. Even though I thought I didn’t care about most of them, I felt pressured. A group pressure. It was so contradictory. I found myself modulating some parts of me for them. It was an insatiable shameful feeling. You don’t see yourself as yourself anymore, you see what you think they see in you. I had to realise that I wasn’t happy with myself. My mission was to see myself from my own eyes and desires. While accomplishing this, I got tired of fighting back. I was becoming too weak to argue back. I had to fight tears while fighting them. So I stopped paying attention to them. I just stared at random dots, distanced myself from every person who was too stuck in their perfect world to see what was happening right in front of them. What was constantly there, became rare. And I finally saw their true selves. Looking for unnatural girls, pretending to like girls, acting like you're supposed to be attractive, disrespecting others because daddy will defend them, mocking at diversity, objectifying lesbians, repeating what daddy said at dinner, being racist, being applauded for doing the normal thing to do, being decent only with girls they’re attracted to, being competitive to humiliate others.
