Love Under No Circumstances

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I’ve finally found something to live for or rather, someone to live for. She only had one flaw, however; she was white. You see, in this day and age, us colored folk had no place for “love”. We only made room to “love” our work and nothing else. But this time, only this time, I felt inspired to break this routine. This routine that us colored should live an orchestrated life. I’ve seen her walk by everyday on the outskirts of town on the way home. You’d be a fool not to notice my admiration for her. Every time she’d come by, I’d drop whatever I was doing to stand and notice her beauty. I even feel like she wants to say something to me sometimes but the crowd she’s around always sees the color of my skin and yells threats at me if I don’t stop looking at “their” women. It didn’t really bother me, though. Once you’re in love with someone, no one else matters. But I’m just one black male against a society that is overlooked by white racists so what could I possibly do? That’s the way I thought it was meant to be; the way I was supposed to live life, however, there was one day that I decided to confront her. It was broad daylight and I was walking with a group of friends. Everything was settle and original until she graced us with her presence. As usual, however, she was with a crowd of white folks who saw us as different. But I felt something in my stomach; the same feeling you get one someone you really like comes around once in a lifetime and you just know that he/she is the one. This pain told me to speak up, to show her that I admired her. “Do something, anything!” I felt those words coming all the way down from the pit of my gut. So as she came closer and closer, I’ve decided that I would make a move; even if it wasn’t the mature thing to do. You see, I sort of whistled at her. Of course, she looked my way but so did the rest of the white folk around her who came charging in my direction. They started to beat me severely but even as I was on the ground, something occurred to me. I didn’t really focus on the pain, the screams of my friends, the cowards who stood around watching my beatings happen, or even the anger of the white folk around me. I only remembered one thing; the look on her face. From when I whistled, she smiled at me but when I was beaten, she had shed tears for me. I’ve finally got her attention and witnessed her smile and sorrow all in one quick instant. I was happy that I finally had someone to live for, even if that someone cost me my life instead. Because even for a young boy like me all I could think about through my death was the sight of her and her emotions that were displayed for me, and that’s all that mattered to me.





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