Owning Myself

     There I have said it. I own it. But how can that be? How can I become that for which I possess such contempt. I can’t answer this. I don’t know where I picked up this disease. I don’t like it. I really don’t like it. Charlatan screams in my head as I try to make sense of my feelings. I am bias on behalf of diversity, prejudiced towards benevolence. I feel the rightness of it is so clear that my clarity is now clouded. It is possible that I am so infected by this virus that I am delirious.

     Where do I go from here? How do I justify my beliefs without trampling upon those of others. I wonder if I should carefully clasp my beliefs to myself like a butterfly within my hands. I wonder if I should quiet my thoughts to a whisper to be only heard by my heart. It is only with those efforts that my intolerance would be reined in and corralled like a wild horse.

     I will continue to seek a cure for this which ails me. I do have moments, quiet times, when I believe that I have contained this beast. Time when I can clearly see that we are all on this journey together yet each carrying our own baggage with our own personal reflections lighting our way.

     I wonder if I should hold my thoughts and beliefs within…and if I do, am I sending a message that I condone hatred and discrimination and the violence that goes with it. As I write this, I have had an epiphany of sorts. Maybe more people should stand up and be heard on behalf of diversity and advocate for change. Maybe I should not quiet my feelings of intolerance. Change needs numbers to push it forward, change needs validation and witness. Maybe… I should become more tolerant of my thoughts, my feelings…myself.