Before darkness, I am lazy. Motivation eludes me and creativity dwindles Into an abyss of uncontrolled wanderings, that I am ashamed telling you. Why am I fighting the lies, why can’t I just show the best of me, like everyone else? Because when the light comes out, I lose my will, my independence, my ability, to think for myself. The sun has come out, the rain no longer holds me prisoner in the confines of my house, the depression is at bay. So I do not hold myself to my standards anymore and I either forget or pretend to forget to write a poem a day..a short story a day. A chapter a day no longer is my goal, my goal is just to exist, to soak up the sun, to chill with people who aren’t that important, to forget who I am as a writer, a person bound by the creativity engrained within her mind and her heart. To create is to exist on the highest form of my conscienceness. I am half a person when i do not create every day, several times a day, and still, I am complacent.

This condition called complacency afflicts many human beings, and I am no different. Do I call myself a statistic? Isn’t it bad enough that as a biracial female living in America means that I must be 10 times better than my Caucasian counterparts in order to succeed? Whether I see the stars wink at me in the moonlight or the clouds drift by in the sunlight, I know my reality. It took 30+ years for the first African-American or Latina female to win the Olympics. It took 2 centuries for the first African-American President to become a reality. I was one out of two people of color who interned in corporate america this past summer out of an intern group of 25 participants. And still, it is not enough.

That’s what I tell myself whenever people congratulate me on my accomplishments. It’s not enough.

That’s why I sometimes feel slightly ashamed that I do not do that one poem/short story a day like I promised myself.

As a biracial female, I will never be enough for this world. This is my reality, before and after darkness.