I never thought I would actually experience verbal abuse through social media.

I’ve gotten pretty good at navigating the world wide web through the years, and seeing hurtful/vulgar remarks on posts are things that I’m (unfortunately) used to. When scrolling through the comments section of a YouTube video that I’ve finished watching, I sometimes see posts of random rage-filled outbursts. I’ve learned to just skip over them and not take them seriously. Especially since said comments are never left on my own material.

I want to scream, with each continual stab of the dagger named "Bitterness", but I remain quiet.

I’m fairly active on social media, I don’t deny that. (Although I’m still trying to work on being on it less. Which is kind hard. Since my job is to do social media stuff.) When I see something funny, I’ll share it. If a terrible natural disaster happens somewhere, I’ll draw attention to it and ask people to pray for those in peril. But as far as politics go, I’m generally fairly quiet. I have never seen anything good come from a political argument on social media. It always turns into a pugnacious quarrel, and nobody’s minds are ever changed. Emotions get involved, rational thinking goes out the window, and friendships become awkward, tense, and perhaps even dissolve altogether. It’s never a pretty sight. This presidential season was no different regarding my reservation on the matter, except I might have posted once or twice about how cool it was that I personally knew the now Vice President of the United States. And maybe some funny memes. But nothing else that was of serious note.

I suppress my shrieks, though the punctures keep grazing my heart.

I am most definitely an observer. I like to sit and contemplate and notice the world around me. I would say I am observant, though perhaps not in the most original sense of the word. I am not one who walks into a room and can tell you how many pieces of furniture there were, what time it was, what the color of the mug sitting on the table was, etc. I notice patterns, minute details, over a long period of time.
During this season, I’ve watched how Hillary and Trump have unfolded before my eyes and before the eyes of America. Lies, false promises, strange behaviors, ... It was clear to see that both candidates had major issues, and deciding which one was the least despicable was going to take some serious thought. I read countless reasons as to why people should vote for one candidate or the other, and saw very good arguments on both sides. I looked at Trump and Hillary from all sorts of different perspectives. I looked at their characters, their personal decisions. I looked at all of the wrongs they and their families had ever done. I looked at their running mates. I looked at their humanity. I looked at their policies. I read articles, had discussions with elders, prayed about it, and eventually did what I was supposed to do: I came up with my own decision.

“You’re an f-ing idiot. How dare you call yourself a Christian. You must hate everyone.”

You know what’s particularly sad about verbal abuse? You can’t see it. There are no physical scars or wounds that show it happens. It just simply happens. And it’s always by someone you’re close to. That’s what makes it hurt the most.
I voted for Trump. Yes, I know, he is despicable in many, many ways. I am so sad and so sorry that Trump and Hillary were our only two primary options. I didn’t want it to be this way. But I read all of the arguments, and he is what I decided upon. I loathe how racist he is. I am disgusted with his actions and remarks toward women. But as I have said, and as I keep saying, I dug and dug and dug through the lives of Mr. Donald Trump and Mrs. Hillary Clinton, and arrived at my own conclusion.

Hours pass. I wonder how long I will writhe in this agony. The monotonous thrust of the knife does not grow any less painful. I’m surrounded by a pool. I didn’t know I had so much blood inside me.

“Just f- off! People like you shouldn’t deserve to live! I’m so disappointed in you ‘Christians’.” Some of my friends said that to me. Some of my heroes said that to me. Some of my professors said that to me. Some of my peers said that to me. A part of my home-away-from-home said that to me.

A number of the people who have my complete love, devotion, and admiration have told me that I’m the reason for racism, sexism, ...
I know you’re sad, you’re grieving, you’re upset. And you know what, part of me is, too. You’re not alone.
But please.
Stop hating me.
The hurt I feel to have Christians deny me is overpowering.
The depth of the pain I experience in having people wish I was never born is almost unbearable.

And finally, after fighting to stay strong, I collapse. The point on their dagger came through clearly and pierced my heart. I have been beaten to death in silence.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hatred cannot drive out hatred, only love can do that." -Martin Luther King, Jr.