My Struggle. A story unto which words are deemed worthy enough to be written out to describe the struggles of my life. My childhood, my aspirations, my ambitions, my loves, my life... all dashed with a single word. A word, a breath, an action. My conflict. My pain. My tears. My laughter. My life. My Struggle. This is my story. Please hear me out.

As youthful children, we lacked the motivation in school and studies, in general. Friendships were fleeting; relationships were volatile. The only stability we had was our family. In terms of having a career, at a young age, we aspired to become a writer, an artist, of sorts. Parents and closed ones did not seem to understand this and as a result, looked down upon us for it. 

Through much research and study, we began embarking on fantastical notions of superiority and how we should all ought to strive to be pure, of the best blood, and harbour a great esteem of ownership, honesty and pride. 

As life ran its natural course, our inner voice began to scream in agony. It was as though we were being burnt alive in the fires of hell itself. Our pure blood yelled out for acceptance. The Pure Ones we were becoming. Those of the Pure Blood would be saved from the fires of hell and Salvation will be offered to that soul. The Pure Ones would never have faith in the mixing of blood. We stood for all that was Pure and Holy.

We are not the Unclean. We are not the Outcast. We may be the Outnumbered, but, we will never give in. 

We fight for Salvation. Saviours, we are not yearning to be. Hear us, understand us, stand by us and join us.

This, is, My Struggle.