I look terrible. That’s beside the point. My skin is brown. It automatically instills fear in some. It automatically instills pity in some. It automatically condemns me in some ways. It automatically liberates me in some ways. The Trayvon Martin verdict has my heart in pieces. It showed me that being Black in America is a burden. I do not try to bring race into things. I have tons of friends. I have loved people from all races. But I cannot look away from what I feel was racism. If I offend anyone, which I have, that was not my intention. But I have been on the receiving end of racism. I’ve had people look at me as if I were inferior because God dipped his paint brush in a different color when he made me. I’ve been treated differently, both good and bad, because of this. Why does color matter? Really? This shouldn’t be a race war, but it is. Perception is everything. And if someone perceives you as a threat because of skin, there is a problem. I worry for my family. I worry for my friends. This is not what I want America to be. Yet I still defend this country. But there is a burden being Black in America. There are some things people will never understand. You will not see where my anger comes from. You will not understand my sorrow. A child is gone never to return to his parents. His killer walks free. Remove race and this is what is left. Insert race and you have where we are now. Hold your child and family. Love them endlessly. Pray for them tirelessly. Pray for us all. 

Excuse me the formatting. This is my journal post I literally copied and pasted in here. My purest emotions. Without swearing. And bad formatting.