People suck. But...

Like that time when I watched my dad get all dressed and ready for his bachelor party and his friends never came, so he sat on the back patio and contemplated suicide for the umpteenth time.

People suck. But we crave them.

Like that time when I found out that my visa request had been denied and I was devastated and my best friend said I couldn’t call her because 10pm was too late, her and husband had to get up early.

People suck. But I need them.

Like that time in elementary school when some shitty little kid made fun of me because my ancestors were slaves, so he or she was better because their ancestors owned slaves.

People suck. But I trust they can change.

Like all those times when I was made fun of by teachers and peers for having kinky/curly/black people hair and I cried to my mom, begged my mom, to do something about the affliction.

People suck. But my hair is fucking on point.

Like all those times when I was reminded by that aunt that I don’t fit in with the rest of my family, but at least I’m skinny by her standards, so I’ve got that going for me.

People suck. But I’d still like to belong.

Like the time I was called ‘the help’ by a stay at home mom who I frequently nannied her ridiculous, dirty kids while she went out and pretended to run errands, but kept these Wednesday mornings secret from her husband.

People suck. But I will take their money and eat their food.

Like that time a super racist, creepy customer said that I was one of the smart ones and he was refreshed by my articulate nature and how he should be allowed to say ‘black folk’ because the  black President says ‘white folk’ in his book.

People suck. There’s no but to that one.

Like the time he said she wasn’t his type because he’s not into curvy girls and I took it to heart and was offended and put off by him.

People suck. But he’s not really my type either.

Like that time when my friend won’t pick up the phone or respond to my text messages since I came out to her, so I’m pretty sure she’s ignoring or avoiding me, or maybe she’s just really busy?

People suck. But I still wanna be friends with them.

Like those times when my boyfriend at the time decided that my consent wasn’t necessary and that he could do whatever he wanted to and with my body because he’s 10” taller than me and much stronger than me. Then 7 years later I finally put a name to it all: sexual assault.

People suck. But they won’t break me.

Like that time when a customer called me a ‘territorial bitch’ in front of his young child and wife because I politely asked him to not go behind the counter at the yogurt shop I worked. And I was appalled at his asshatery.

People suck. But fuck that guy.

Like that time when I decided to start standing up for myself and actually sharing my feelings and my thoughts and this small group of friends decided they didn’t like this side of Colea so they made me feel like I was unsafe in my own home, so now we don’t talk to each other, because they are always right and I will always be wrong.

People suck. But I will continue to grow.

Like all these times when people have inevitably hurt and disappointed me, purposefully or inadvertently, and I keep coming back, perhaps foolishly, only to experience more pain and more delight and more life.

People suck. But I love them and I want them and I am them.