I probably should stop posting so much before I run out of steam, but I was struck with so many emotions tonight I just couldn't avoid writing about them. I'm leaving for Michigan tomorrow, and I will be so aflurry with packing and preparation that I won't have time to get this out. I don't want to be weighed down when I am supposed to be on vacation.

I don't speak while I'm in school, unless I'm spoken to--mostly, "Can I borrow a pencil?" or "Can I copy your lecture notes?" I know that I seem like a stuck up snob when I don't talk to anyone. I'm just painfully shy these days. I fear what my fellow peers think or don't think about me: sometimes I feel as if I have a case of paranoia. I've been listening to my iPod after I'm done with my finals these past couple days, and I can just hear the faint murmur of the other people in my class. Every time I hear "she," I feel as if they're talking about me. Why, why, why am I so caught up in unimportant matters? I shouldn't care what people think of me. I shouldn't care if someone is backstabbing me. There are so many more important issues in the world. I feel like a selfish, selfish person. 

There are people dying  in a genocide, when the world said the Holocaust would be the last. What, since Darfur is in Africa, a typically third-world country, those being murdered and raped and starved because of their race don't matter? I shake with anger when I think of such a thing, yet I simply cannot speak up about it. I make donations to the Save Darfur Foundation (www.savedarfur.org) whenever I have any extra money at all, and yet--I can't be adamant about what is right and wrong. Women all over the world are being abused and raped. I am an assault victim myself. It could've been worse. I could've been gotten a disease or become pregnant, but I didn't. 

The only people I told were my closest friends, but they thought I was lying; such a thing couldn't happen on school grounds because that would make their previously safe haven dangerous. What do I say? I say FUCK YOU. I am sorry you thought such things couldn't happen outside of books and movies. I am sorry that you four girls had to doubt one of your closest friends, and I am especially sorry that I am no longer supportive of you. Go ahead--do drugs, get plastered, have the time of your fucking lives. I don't care anymore. As for the man that violated me: I hope you burn in hell. For I will not take pity on you. I know you've done it before, to other girls like me, and I can only shed tears for them. I can't break my own heart, but only I can heal it again. I cannot heal the others that have been scarred by you. FUCK YOU, too. 

And to all of those God-forsaken bastards who are causing pain in the world: I am only a statistic. I feel as if my face is awash in a sea of millions of others, and I will never stand out. I feel as if there is a smear upon my heart and soul, one that will remain as long as I live. And I know that many others feel the same way. Perhaps if we all stand together, our stains across our souls will form a bridge that will allow us to cross over and plaster the broken walls of our spirits in one solid piece again.

It feels so good to finally be able to proudly shout about how much anger I have kept inside of me since January. I am so pathetic at times and I am so, so tired of being utterly alone. I feel like I am shouting in an empty house. My words echo off of the walls and bounce back to me, as if they are a slap in the face. There are more important issues in the world. I can only be emphathetic for those who have experienced as I have, for I can only relate to those who have. I used to think that horrors like the Holocaust happened so that the world would learn from its mistakes; so that history would not repeat itself as it has so inevitably done in the past. I have been told that my experience can only make me stronger.

What if it has only made me angry?

Maybe my experiences will make me stronger. Maybe recognizing all these feelings that have been swirling inside of me is the inspiration I needed to make a difference. I hope I can. I hope, I hope. For it is hope that holds this world together, and what keeps children's eyes shining. Hope is what keeps those who should have given up long ago still breathing. 

And I hope those less unfortunate than I continue to keep going. When they give up, their flicker of hope burns out, as if you are watching the earth and a whole country darkens. I wish that they will never be content to stay silent. I wish that their candle of hope will never burn out.