A cruel world

I woke up from a well deserved nap

To a ringing sound deep beneath my covers

It was about 100 tweets

Yelling at me to burn like my ancestors

To die with my beliefs 

I turned my phone off, stopping myself from chucking it out my window

But out my window was something worse

A dozen of my closest friends, throwing rocks and holding up signs filled with symbols and words that burned my heart

A million comments about my nose, my family, my history

My life. 

They were thrown at me quicker and harder than the rocks.

And then I woke up. 

I woke up late. I woke up scared. I woke up sweating. I found myself on the brink of screaming. 

I don't want to go to school anymore, for fear of fighting, of arguing, of dying. 

I don't want to face the eyes of my teachers who think teaching me is their biggest disgrace. 

Sitting in first period, I see the eyes of my classmates roll as we start our holocaust unit. I feel my hands shivering and my nose twitching. My “big, fat, ugly nose” couldn’t stop flickering. 

What if history repeats itself? What if I'm not as safe as my parents tell me. As my principal tells me. As I tell myself. 

I want to go home, but the fear doesn't stop when I enter through that door. It just shifts, it shifts to the people of the media. To the people of the neighborhood. 

Second period couldn't come sooner. I ask my teacher for an extension on an assignment. I had celebrated Rosh Hashana, the jewish new year, the week before, and the work was too vicious to complete over the weekend. My teacher scowls. She yells at me in front of the whole class. 

Humiliation isn't the right word. Hungry might just be. Hungry for justice. Hungry for time. 

Hungry for death, sometimes. Sometimes I want the constant cycle, the repetition to end. And if that means I have to end it, with myself, then so be it. 

Goodbye, cruel world. 

I hope you get what's coming to you. 



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