Remember at the End of the Day, It’s All about Her
The words are the only bits that have survived my life. The only elements that have passed the test, time after time. They are always there.
The reality is that it’s me that has betrayed them. I never found a way to live with them when I drank, and I’ve never found a way to write them once I stopped. Still, they stay with me. When there is nothing else…as there must never be…there are the words.
😀 my video! i didn’t thought when i upload it that it would become so popular 😀
There’s an accusation, especially recently in our culture, about people who fight for social justice. We’re accused of perpetuating a victim mentality. People mistake our stories and our experiences for manifestations of victimhood. We’re told not to wallow. We’re told to rise above, and in many cases, to put aside and forget our experiences… almost as if they don’t matter at all.
It’s easy for me to get tired. To feel like I’m wrong for speaking out, that I just don’t want to fight and educate any more, that I’m sick of being told what an awful person I am for daring to point out injustice in society. And I admit that it’s easy to fall into a victim mentality. It’s easy to think that the world is against me without remembering why I decided to speak out in the first place.