About Me: life as a person full to the brim with people who argue simply because they’re in love with the sound of their own voice

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You guys, I’m full of word vomit. Not my own, but that of others who think it necessary to spew every hateful, ignorant, spiteful idea into my eyes and ears for the sake of argument. Word vomit. Inside of me. Acidic thoughts being absorbed into my guts–makes me ill. Some say, “Kindra, don’t participate in hot-topic conversations, don’t listen to the news, don’t read the news of the world if doing any of these things makes you so soul-sick.” Would I be any happier? Perhaps. We all know the saying ignorance is bliss. But I believe (willful) ignorance is dangerous. I believe it is my duty as a decent and loving human being to combat negativity; as a writer, it is my duty and privilege to use my gift to reach not only those with feelings similar to mine, but those who do not because maybe they will walk away from my words with (some level of) open-mindedness. A girl can hope.

It’s a daily battle for me, recognizing and appreciating one’s right to speak. Because I do believe in Freedom of Speech. Donald Trump is free to stand before the American People and barf disparagement all over their faces. Unfortunately, many Americans lick it up and ask for seconds. Don’t worry, assholes, Trump has a surplus.

Something in the news besides Donald Trump has me fucking sick–the murder of Minnesota man, Philando Castile. Castile was shot in the arm four or fives times by an officer (who had pulled the car over due to a broken taillight) in the presence of his young daughter, and girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds. According to Reynolds, via the live stream, her boyfriend was a licensed firearm carrier, and he had informed the officer about his gun when asked for license and registration; the officer shot Castile as he attempted to provide his license and registration. Castile was not a felon (he worked at a public school). But he was black. And he had a firearm permit. So which is it? Did the officer shoot him four or five fucking times in the direct presence of a woman and child because he was anticipating Castile to pull out his own gun and fire, or because Castile was black?

That this man bled out in his fucking car–that his little girl was at the scene, and had to watch her mother being cuffed while her father was dying breaks my heart. What boils my piss is the social media commentary of fucking racists who want to argue about the Blacks Lives Matter movement. Listen, you white attention whores, your lives matter, too. Stop arguing your (wrong) opinion that Black Lives Matter is racist (or as some of you stupid fucks say, reverse-racism. Racism is racism, idiots. Reverse-racism, fuuuhhh…) because All Lives Matter. Fucking duh, all lives matter, but by arguing against Black Lives Matter, you are in fact saying that no, not all lives do matter. You feel me? Probably not. Look at it this way: Save the whales does not mean fuck you fish, or nobody gives a good goddamn about you, you fucking seals; and Justice for so-and-so does not mean anyone else is undeserving of justice.

I’ve been paying attention to these idiotic comments, and it just never ceases to amaze me how deeply in love people are with themselves–like it’s liquid gold that pours forth from their mouths. No, dude, that’s vomit.

 

 

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6 thoughts on “About Me: life as a person full to the brim with people who argue simply because they’re in love with the sound of their own voice

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