Tired Rant/ stream of conscious

[About Cat Hartliebe]

(Cat shouldn’t be up at 3am. A poem will be posted shortly. I’m not saying it’s happier than this though. Im not happy.)

we all have bad days

we may not all have bad days that change the course of history

but everyone has a bad day every now and again

i dont think i could imagine my life mattering to anyone. as if my name could be added to the list of mistreatment like so many before me. changing the course of the world through death as if thats the only way

why cant we listen to the living?

why is it we’re more likely to listen to the dead?

they dont listen to the dead. they pretend they understand what the dead wanted to say while alive. they gave them words when they could not speak.

they did not want to die for their cause

to die for a cause would mean the cause isnt over yet. they still need people. they need bodies. not dead bodies. they need living bodies screaming for help.

why is it you dont hear the living?

why is it make up facts about the dead as if the dead matter more than those alive?

why is it i ask for help and get told im crazy far more than i am to receive any assistance? “You should be able to do that.” “You don’t really need help.” “Shut up and quit complaining.” “There are people worse off than you.” “Can’t you just die already?”

Would my death be named? have we gotten to the point of naming the dead?

there’s a joke. an author sells more books dead than alive. as if death increases sales. if the book never leaves market, after death is far longer than alive.

but if those people would push my books after death, why wont they alive?

“I knew her *sniffle*.” Same ones who wished for me to kneel over instead of gain assistance.

I’m tired. because no matter how hard we yell, we’re ignored. as if our words and existence dont matter. we’ve lost already. there is no hope.

there has to be hope

where is it?

LGBT+ flocked to the rainbow. The rainbow showed hope. It has meaning. It resonances with power.

Black power raises a fist into the air in defiance against all those who repressed and suppressed them.

It is hope. It means hope. It is our aim for the future that is equal.

why aren’t we equal? why is it that all of the history I’ve ever read or dealt with had inequality? Some vague notions said this civilization over that one wasn’t as bad. There was none where every human was equal. That we gained true equality.

Why is it I’ve been laughed at for suggesting it? As if equality is pure nonsense.

I fight for equality and acceptance and hope. I don’t have a lot of power. It feels as if I have very little. and its all negated by those directly around me. i cant progress.

im trapped.

this black hole is…

every time i try to climb out im sucked right back in

there’s no hope…

no one really wants equality…

no one wants to give me a chance…

im too different…

im alone.

All my words. Everything I’ve ever done. I wanted to believe. I wanted to have hope. because without that, what is there? Could I even imagine a life where I get treated as if equal with others?

Laughed at… Yelled at… disrespected…

how does anyone handle it?

how is it our suicide numbers are so low?

do they have at least someone to lean on? someone who will offer them rest and hope? who will say, you’re not alone.

why is it i’m so alone…?

I don’t have a will to fight anymore.

thats a problem.

whats get me out of bed in the morning?

its not the insults from beyond my door

or the treatment as if i cant be broken. I cant be sick. im too pretty to be sick.

im too pretty…

What type of line is that?

im so tired. no matter how much i sleep, im still tired. nothing is changing. its all a pretend, a farse.

and one day…

history will repeat itself.

will it be my name added to the list?

will my bad day change the course of history?

i would rather it is mine than yours. Every body counts. Don’t be the one trapped inside a bag before you do.

[About Cat Hartliebe]

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