COCONUT was a White person. I admitted to people that I was White, even though I wasn’t. People laughed at me, and they were right to do so. I was so foolish to believe such delusion. It was mostly because I was tired of being told that I am not “good enough” to be Mexican. To this day, I still don’t know what that means. However, many within the community, including a good portion of my family, thought I wasn’t. They kept making fun of my struggles with trying to be one of them. Rather than help, they would watch me fail over and over again. This made me hate the culture. The fact that people in my own family thought I wasn’t good enough made me think that I wasn’t welcome in the community. I gave up on them. They hurt me, so why would I choose to be associated with them. I went to White people, and for a while, I was fine. I soon started to realize that not many of them were there for me. I reached for them for help, but as it turns out, they weren’t there most of the time. I couldn’t fit in with the Americans. I couldn’t fit in with the Mexicans, let alone my own family. I couldn’t go back to my own family for help because of the shame I felt. They wouldn’t understand. They would have mocked me… or so I thought. I found myself in a hole. A hole with a sole inhabitant… me. There was no one else. No one… but me. I am alone. Moving on There I was… in the metaphorical hole called “loneliness.” Wanting to be free but knew no one would come to help. What is one to do in that situation? My only solution was simple. Better said than done. Pull myself out. How am I to do that? What do I need to do? Where do I go from there? The options seemed so limited just a while back, but now appear to be limitless. But first, how do I help myself. Well… I decided to stop caring what other people think. Others’ words will only carry the weight that you give them. So why give them any. I can understand that some words carry the weights of generations of struggle and conflict. So, I understand if people are offended by others’ words. In my case, however, when it comes to who I am, no one else knows who I am but me. I stopped caring, and it worked. No one could hurt me. No one could take my identity from me. Not Americans. Not Mexicans. Not even my family. No matter what they say, or what they think, it doesn’t bother me. As for my family, as much as I want to go off on them for making me feel less than I am, I still love them. I can move away from the past and forgive them, because no matter what, I go back to them for anything. I will say this, it helps to get away from the places where you have been hurt. Explore a little and find where you belong. Give yourself a fresh start and find new people to interact
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