White People Are Thieves

White people steal everything. It pisses me off. Here are some examples.

  1. Hotdogs and hamburgers are from like Germany or some shit. I don’t know where they came from, but they did not come from you cracker ass mother fuckers.
  2. Poor ass indians.
  3. Poor ass africans.
  4. Jesus is not fucking white. Why must you take Jesus? Jesus Christ probably looked like Osama Bin Laden. He was probably dark as fuck and had a unibrow. And then you hate on Middle Eastern people and chant “God Bless America”. That nigga was brown and had ashy ankles.
  5. Rednecks hate on Mexican all day. They’re racist as fuck but they don’t realize that they act Mexican as fuck. Mexicans drink beer, cook outside, they’re dirty, and work in construction too. Why you gotta copy them, White people? The only difference is Mexicans are making food that originated from their home while some redneck has some “burgers on the grill”. Mexicans be on that OG. That’s why you want to kick all the Mexicans out. Cause you’re jealous that they doing them better than you doing you.
  6. Taco Bell is not MEXICAN. That shit is doo doo in tortillas. They call it “Authentic Mexican Food”, bitch you trippin’. In Mexico they actually call it “Authentic American Food”, real talk.

White people be straight thinkin’ they the shit but they ain’t. They just haters, y’all.

     I want to take this time to write about my Mom because despite her being a total turd, she’s done a lot for me. I’ve never been part of wealth. I lived in a goddamn trailer park for the majority of my life. Our roof was usually rotting from rain. I used to make out shapes in the stains on the roof, just staring for hours and trying to figure out what I could see. I never had nice clothes. I wanted to be hip and have nice shit and my Mom would yell at me. I know now why. We never ate out at nice places. We ate TV dinners and toaster strudels. Cause we liked it and my Mom couldn’t cook. She taught me to appreciate every single thing. Cause sometimes things don’t last forever. Sometimes you just get a little taste. We’ll have a some good shit one day and the next I’m eating tuna and crackers for a week. Appreciate that shit.

         I would miss my Dad a lot when I was with my Mom because too frequently some new guy was at the house trying to make me like him. I never liked my Mom’s boyfriends. There was a select few that were there for a while and I thought they were cool but I never got attached to them. Not that that was something I cared about. I just used them to buy me cool shit cause they wanted brownie points. Cool shit as in like candy from the little store down the street or a soda. I’m poor, anything was cool. Me and my cousins used to brag if our Mom’s took us to McDonald’s. McDonald’s was my Red Lobster. But when you’re nice to the kid, you’ll probably get a BJ (My mother is a saint so fuck you). But my Mom was always trying to find someone to help her. She needed money for me and my sister. And these guys would come around and they would help for a little. She would bleed these mother fuckers dry, she had to, cause they were usually gone a little while later. We were a team though. We’d even laugh at some of these guys. One time we were out on the streets over some fist fight my Mom had with my aunt, she was pissed, we stormed out, drove off in my Mom’s shitty Daewoo and went and stayed with one of my Mom’s “friends”. Sketchy ass place, one bedroom, no furniture. Just a king size bed (the first and only king size bed I’ve ever been on, a TV, fridge, stove that didn’t work, and one chair. I sat at that chair all night and listened to MF Doom and used my Mom’s work laptop to customize my MySpace. I had never met this dude. And after my Mom was with him alone for a couple minutes in his room he let us sleepover. SLUMBER PARTY. Worst sleep I ever had. But we were surviving and that guy probably gave her some money cause Mom got us McDonald’s for dinner AND for breakfast the next day. It was fucking dope. I learned about rough times and getting past them with my Mom. I was scared and she was too but we did it I guess. My Mom taught me about surviving. Sometimes you gotta do what you have to do. I watched people treat her like shit. I’ve seen her in pain. I’ve had people talk shit about her to my face. To hers too, but we were a team and we didn’t care. When it was just me, my Mom, and my sister, life was great. I learned about family being important. I’ve learned that to come up you have to push some people down. The world will eat you alive. I learned who to trust. How people can truly be. I learned to move forward. We were never looking back.

        Part of me is happy that my parent’s split so that I could live the sketchy life I did. My Dad would pick me up for the weekend and I hated leaving, having to go back to the shithole my Mom had us in. And I would feel terrible for my sister cause her Dad was some stupid beaner who’s now a Jehovah’s Witness and won’t attend her Quinceañera cause they don’t believe in that shit. But anyway, when I came home on Monday morning before school, my Mom would be there, in our shitty home, waiting for me, with a fresh outfit and a hug and a kiss and every day ask me “why do we go to school?” to which I would respond “to learn”. But most of the learning I did was from her and my Dad. My Dad taught me about being a good person and how to succeed, but my Mom taught me how to survive.

     When I lived with my Mom, I felt safe. She was beautiful and strong and she kept the ball rolling and I didn’t die and I appreciate that. There are lot of things that have happened in our life together that have been stupid and shitty and just fucking retarded, but I love my Mom, no matter what. She’s done some stupid shit that at the time I thought ruined my life but she’s my Mother. She gave me life. She raised me and my sister alone. The days in the cold cold trailer park all cuddled up in the same bed were the happiest days of my life. We lived a shit life most of our lives, my Mom tried her best to make sure we had a little febreeze.

Te quiero mucho, Ma.