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moonraccoon-exe · 7 years ago

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It was not an emotional struggle. It isn’t me.

It’s my country.

I’ll be adding a Keep Reading line, because here comes a rant on why I was (or am?) in shock and decided to take a breath for a moment. But do know, it’s not my mental health, I’m fine in that aspect. It’s just that today was tragedy for my country, and I am...well, sad about it.

I’ve been avoiding telling you guys where I’m from on a side for mere fun of leaving you on doubt, and on the other side, because I was scared of your reaction towards it. Scared of being rejected, and scared because I know that no matter if you stay a friend to me, your perception is changing anyway because that’s how society has gotten us to mentally process. So as soon as I told you, you’d tag; tag my skin color (and miserably fail), tag my accent (and half fail), tag my favorite food and games and everything, tag everything.

Not to say my country is currently one of the most hated upon. For the sole reason of the Class Bully speaking shit about us until turning us into the bad guy. The aggressive, the idiotic, the barbarian.

You have no idea how scared I’ve been at times to say where I’m from because of the reactions. Because I know I’ll immediately be pulled fifty steps below everyone else. Because I’ll feel that you see me as uncultured, with no education, like a cavernman, and so...hated upon.

But I’ve never been ashamed of my country.

Scared of your reactions, of course. But ashamed of my country? Nothing in the universe will achieve that until my country itself proves me it is what the rest of the world thinks it is. Which I highly doubt; to watch its people with my own eyes lets me know what kind of people we really are.

You’re probably wondering where all this speech comes from. To be honest, I would have liked to continue keeping it a secret; that way the silly game of keeping you on question would stay up, and I’d save all that fear of being tagged and despised.

But today I cannot not speak about my country.

I can’t wait until the shock passes and then copy-paste happy kaomojis into a post telling you I’m back and happily bouncing around, pretending nothing happened. It feels like the most hypocrite thing to do, to continue posting all my happy things without mentioning it once. Like it didn’t happen. Like it’s not happening.

Like I didn’t just lose hundreds of sisters and brothers.

My dearest and most beloved México has gone through a terrible earthquake earlier today Tuesday. Here where I live, earthquakes are strange to be sensed; we’re on very high ground so if the city trembles, we usually don’t feel it. If we do, it’s because it was bad down in the city.

Today I felt it here home. And I felt it bad.

Which could only mean one thing: the city was being destroyed.

And it is destroyed.

September 19 is/was also the 32nd anniversary of the worst earthquake the city has ever had, and, while on a minor scale, it happened yet again. There’s a great quantity of buildings that are now but debris, rock and dust. The number of deaths does but increase with every second. A kindergarten collapsed, a whole block of apartments, the building 500 meters from where my brother was having a job interview.

And I am so brokenhearted. Terribly, terribly brokenhearted.

I feel, no jokes, like when my grandmother died. I still senselessly and against all logic hope it’s all a joke. That tomorrow I’ll wake up to the news having a big sign that says “Haha just kidding”. I was downtown just yesterday, and next time I go there there will be rocks where there used to be buildings. That had people and pets inside.

I feel...so sad. When I watch the news and I see all these people crying, and all the destruction like somebody dropped a bomb or like it’s warzone...my heart aches. You have close to no idea how desperately much I love my country, so to see its beautiful core, its very same heart in this state...broken, in ruins. It hurts. It’s almost a physical pain. It hurts more than any personal experience. Because this doesn’t involve only me, this involves all my people and my sisters and brothers, and...all the people I lost, even if not knowing their faces or names. The fact that we all lived here makes us family. And even if we weren’t family, we’re still human beings. And it hurts.

In the news, as I watched the disaster, live, I saw my people, like always when these things happen and when not too, helping each other. Not only professionals but civilians too having joined into rescue missions one second after the earthquake. It was...it is fantastic. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. Solidarity. Solidarity like only us mexicans know how to give.

And then I saw, live, the moment they rescued a person. Alive, breathing, conscious. Saved.

I saw, live, the moment people all kept quiet despite the paranoia, to listen, the moment they spotted where sounds came from, the moment they desperately but in an order I had never before seen my people do started digging out. And then the moment they brought her out, covered in dust, helped her onto a gurney. And the moment the crowd cheered.

Because they had saved a life.

Ohmygod, I feel terrible just remembering. It was both beautiful and terrific, one of the most beautiful and most terrific things I’ve witnessed, because unlike documentaries, this was happening while I was alive, while I exist, while I had people I love in there, this was far way beyond real, and it was past beyond overwhelming. I still don’t know how to feel. I just know it makes me cry and ache inside so, so much.

All day I was trembling and mentally paralized. I kept sewing because nothing else kept me entertained, and all the time I was waiting for something. For what? For the buildings to magically repair themselves so all people could walk out of them? For time to go back so they have time to escape? For the “Haha just kidding” sign on the news? Help from some gods? I don’t know.

I spent all day until just half an hour ago completely unable to contact my best friend. Where was he, if he was okay. I hated him with all my guts and entrails all day because he wasn’t responding anywhere. And I swore that I hated him so much, and I swore that if he didn’t answer soon I would stab him with a fork but wouldn’t want to kill him, because if I was hating him for something that was because I didn’t know if I could even kill him, or if some stupid ass piece of fucking rock had done it for me already.

Only a few moments after I typed that last entry apologizing for having to take a breath, I broke down. I think it was realizing as I typed that post that I was in shock what helped the shock be triggered, because I suddenly felt...like someone important had just died. I felt a void in my chest and like an internal punch to the lungs, and I had to bend down and go hold to a corner of my room, and I just continued to cry. I felt much more desperate than during the earthquake itself. So desperate, so desperate.

Thank the Astrals, after that I stopped trembling and felt much more calm, but not less sad.

Mi México lindo y querido, destroyed and suffering.

Southern states were already in literal ruins, have been for days now. They had a much bigger earthquake. And now the city, too.

Know that no matter what you think about my country or how you visualize it, I’m desperately in love with it, and it’s my biggest pride from above all things. So, like it happens when one sees the love of their life suffering, I’m currently in pain for the love of my life.

I believe I will be back to posting tomorrow or soon enough, because that’s how I know how to keep on; with good vibes and the spirit high on positive vibes. Not to say, on the selfish side, it’s a way to keep me...distracted. But do know, the pain inside isn’t fading, not entirely, in a good while. My México is destroyed, so am I. It’s in ruins, so am I. Always together, it and I. It bleeds, I bleed. It’s called loyalty. One of the things I’m proudest of about my country and its people.

I still have thousands of things to say, but I’ll keep it here for now. This is already too long and angsty.

If you read it this far, know that I’m both very embarrassed by knowing you know where I’m from and your vision of me has majorly changed even if we stay friends, and very proud of admiting it as well. And I’m very, enormously grateful that you took the time on worrying for this coon.

And I’m also profoundly touched inside. Horrified and proud, sad and happy. Overwhelmed. To the point I think I’m still in some sort of shock, even if I already cried most of it out.

For the rest of the night, I’ll continue sewing because it keeps me calm, and send all my thoughts for the people that are living in a much bigger tragedy than mine.

My city bleeds, and I ache with it. Because it’s part of me. Part of my system. And its pain is mine.

Today I lost hundreds, maybe thousands of sisters and brothers.

Today I have seen my concept of Life grow and change and turn into something much greater than before.

And today I do assure you that, just as people did 32 years ago, we will ache, and suffer, and scream, and cry, and it will take time,

But we will rise again.

We could do it back then, we can do it now.

The golden angel will fly again.

Thank you very much. Whoever you are, I love you.

Receive the tightest of hugs from this (currently) destroyed but strong mexican raccoon.

I love you.

#moon raccoon ranting #apologies #i'm fine :)

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