I used to have this rage and hatred in me that was at times uncontrollable. These feelings cost me friends and relationships in the past. I hated the way I felt or was made to feel because of the color of my skin. I wanted to the other. I wanted to be like my tormentors. I was trying hard to emulate and sometimes assimilate. I wanted to be accepted. I was desperate like this. I made it my business to keep how I was feeling and felt a secret. It’s said In These Rooms we are as sick as our secrets. My desperation was rooted in my secret.
