The past few years have been poisoned by acts of racism, terrorism, violence, and the media blowing it all up. Maybe it's not just the past few years, maybe it's just because I'm older and I have to pay attention now. I haven't researched statistics that allow me to say what the past is compared to the present. But I do not care to. Nor do I care to withdraw from my opinion of the media causing half of this violence. So much of life is based on competition, of one upping someone else. And even the sickest individual craves that win, from competition.
Racism is a disease. Being racist, to me, means that you have a disease. And it's a pretty disturbing disease. The side effects from this disease are dangerous, even lethal, to the soul. Primarily, one is selfish through the disease. To walk through life breathing hate onto individuals who are of a different race is selfish. To think one bears the better qualities of appearance is quite unsettling. Those with the disease of racism are secondarily insecure. Not insecure about their own appearance, but they are insecure toward the unity of people of different races. They constantly live in fear, thirdly, that someone who looks or acts unlike them could be dangerous to them, which is an embarrassing fear. It seems more logical to fear spiders crawling in the corner of your bedroom ceiling, possessing no way to ever make it toward you, than to fear another race, or to be hateful toward another race. Racism is about as logical as Hitler's failed attempt to eliminate a race. It didn't work, did it? They're still here. Racism isn't logical, is it? What a sick disease.
More on poisons later.
To be continued..
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.