Not on Google
2020 was one of the best years of my life, and I feel a little guilty saying that since a lot of people were struggling. So, I'm sorry for bragging about my inconvenient 'Two-Thousand-20-Happiness'. If this consoles you, 2021 has been a really dark, ugly, and tough year for me. And that's exactly what I want to talk about: Darkness, ugliness, and toughness.
Darkness is like being at home—but out of power.
Competing with the uncertain future, nothing in my life is darker than my distant past. I ironically smile after typing "distant" because I feel my past right behind me, so close that I can feel its breath. It took all these years to realize how much my past still impacts me and how I miss the life that was taken from me when I was just a kid. When you grow up in darkness, you get so used to it that it feels like home.
Do you want to feel good or at home?
Ugliness isn’t beautiful—try this filter!
When social media started, I was a super active member. It was nothing other than fun. But then, I got lost in the algorithms. I confess I don’t know what to do online anymore, and it seems like we’ve all unlearned what to do offline as well.
When I was a kid, I wanted to go to Heaven to freely fly with birds, play with lions, and dive deep with sharks, as my mom said I could. I never dreamed about tech and smart metal thingamabobs. I never craved more pictures of my face or my food. Do you remember what you wanted as a kid?
Toughness is a weapon; a mother is a life jacket. Survive those who have one.
In the months leading up to my 30s, I’ve caught myself thinking about my mom and crying. Perhaps it’s natural to think about our moms as we grow older. There’s a Brazilian song called "Todo Homem" (Every Man), which repeats in the chorus, "Every man needs a mother." I also read once that life doesn’t come with a manual—it comes with a mother.
One thing you need to know about me is that I was raised by countless tired female hands, which taught me that one’s mother is also the mother of the people around her. When I was 9, I shared with a friend how babies were made. After dismantling what my friend G knew as "zig-zag," she confronted her mom about it. Her mom, however, got angry that she knew now what "sex" was, and prohibited her from playing with me. It’s been over 20 years, and the little me still hurts from this episode. Not because I lost a friend, but because I lost a mother. I still think I can see the big disapproval stamp on my little forehead.
Would you have moved on from it?
Last question!
Do you know what color we get by mixing darkness, ugliness, and toughness?
Well, you’ll have to think about it. That’s not on Google.
@rha.mine
Darkness is like being at home—but out of power.
Competing with the uncertain future, nothing in my life is darker than my distant past. I ironically smile after typing "distant" because I feel my past right behind me, so close that I can feel its breath. It took all these years to realize how much my past still impacts me and how I miss the life that was taken from me when I was just a kid. When you grow up in darkness, you get so used to it that it feels like home.
Do you want to feel good or at home?
Ugliness isn’t beautiful—try this filter!
When social media started, I was a super active member. It was nothing other than fun. But then, I got lost in the algorithms. I confess I don’t know what to do online anymore, and it seems like we’ve all unlearned what to do offline as well.
When I was a kid, I wanted to go to Heaven to freely fly with birds, play with lions, and dive deep with sharks, as my mom said I could. I never dreamed about tech and smart metal thingamabobs. I never craved more pictures of my face or my food. Do you remember what you wanted as a kid?
Toughness is a weapon; a mother is a life jacket. Survive those who have one.
In the months leading up to my 30s, I’ve caught myself thinking about my mom and crying. Perhaps it’s natural to think about our moms as we grow older. There’s a Brazilian song called "Todo Homem" (Every Man), which repeats in the chorus, "Every man needs a mother." I also read once that life doesn’t come with a manual—it comes with a mother.
One thing you need to know about me is that I was raised by countless tired female hands, which taught me that one’s mother is also the mother of the people around her. When I was 9, I shared with a friend how babies were made. After dismantling what my friend G knew as "zig-zag," she confronted her mom about it. Her mom, however, got angry that she knew now what "sex" was, and prohibited her from playing with me. It’s been over 20 years, and the little me still hurts from this episode. Not because I lost a friend, but because I lost a mother. I still think I can see the big disapproval stamp on my little forehead.
Would you have moved on from it?
Last question!
Do you know what color we get by mixing darkness, ugliness, and toughness?
Well, you’ll have to think about it. That’s not on Google.
@rha.mine
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