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Hate in the Time of Obama

Short story By: Kale Youngblood
Other


hate in the time of obama, it's not about politics or obama.


Submitted:Oct 7, 2009    Reads: 137    Comments: 10    Likes: 6   


I hear the whispers. Easy. Slut. Whore. What else is there to me? I am all of these things. Maybe, that's why it doesn't hurt. The ring of abstinence I used have is gone. Cast away. My dad stares where the ring used to be, he thinks I don't notice him stare at it. He thinks I don't hear him cry at night when I'm home. My father never, never cried before. He's 6'10 and muscular, you wouldn't expect crying to come from my father. Does it make him weak? Is he a man? It's been almost seven years and my father hasn't even been on a date. Of any kind. Maybe he misses my mom more than I do. Is that possible? He wasn't even there. He's a doctor, an E.R. Doctor. Maybe, that's why he took my mother's death so hard. Even he the doctor couldn't save her.

I was fifteen. It was Thomas. It hurt. I cried. But when it happened again it didn't hurt and I didn't cry. What does that mean? I want to enjoy life, and what it has to give me. But I can't seem to be able to get over my past. It's chasing me.The past is my shackles, my punishment. I wake up and realize I don't want to be this person anymore. I don't want to be me. Let them take all the money my father has. Let them say I was a spoiled young aristocrat. Let them say I didn't appreciate life. That I didn't make the most of it. Let them say that I gave my life away. Let them say I hated the world. Let them say I walked with Giants. In the time of Obama.





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