"Being a Negro in America means trying to smile when you want to cry. It means trying to hold on to physical life amid psychological death. It means the pain of watching your children grow up with clouds of inferiority in their mental skies. It means having their legs off, and then being condemned for being a cripple." Where Do We Go From Here 1967.
I woke up today and it was dark muggy, and straight up hot, my alarm had woken me up, it was a hard time to motivate myself to awaken and start my day, when I got in the bathroom, my mother had already started the shower for me so the steam surrounded my being, when I got in I quickly turned it down so I could get some cool water wake me and my mind, after that I rushed to get dress for the fear of my bus getting to my home while I wasnt ready. I swiftly went downstairs to greet my mother and finish off my duties, taking my allergy and ashma medication I heard the horn of my bus patiently awaiting my departure, I gathered everything I needed and headed out the door when I got into them bus is when my day truly started because I 'd have to push myself through this miserably unbarable Monday.