Get Out Of My Room....

okay so it took me a really long time to write back....sorry. My friend Hannah died. She lived next door to me in my dorm...It's always scary when somebody my age dies, since i'm such a baby myself...I was going through all these "death comes in threes" deals. Hannah was a very sickly girl. She often got me sick, isnce I have the immune system from hell.And i would cuss her out from that, too. Crazy how the one time She was sick when i wasnt around (she caught pnuemonia) killed her. Hannah was the stereotypical rich white country girl that we have in mind when talkin about "whitefolks". When I first met her, she didnt know who Rosa Parks was, Thought broke as a college student meant having $800 in your bank account a week, and had a big scary taste for UK football players. But hannah, however, never pretended to be somebody she wasn't, and in spite of her redneck ways, I fell in love with her. lol in any case, the things I had problems about with her i have problems with alot. Hannah was yet ANOTHER non-black woman who had a taste for black guys, and had no problem getting them!She never understood why it made me and my kayla so so mad when she would come into pur room and tell us about yet ANOTHER doctor or lawyer, welder, writer or whatever of black descent that she had picked up...It bothered me to no end! and that's a problem I have to deal with still.Also, like I said earlier, she always made me SICK! she would come into my room coughing and shit and say, "Ashley, I'm sick". And I'd say, "Hannah, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Get the fuck out of my room!"
So it was no surprise that my unresolved conflicts with her led me to believe she was haunting me.
the day I found out she was dead, I started having nightmares that she was standing by my bed, saying "Ashley, I'm sick." Only she wasnt regualr Hannah. She was dead hannah. crazy, I know. So i couldnt go to sleep for a while!!! And finally, the funeral arrived. Me and Marissa ventured to Middlesboro kentucky, a city in a crater. It seems like after that damn city was built post-slavery, time stood still. We were the only two black girls to even go to the funeral. Probably the only two she really knew. We had to go to the damn cemetary as well, and it was high on a hillside, lookin all pet-cemetery-ish. (the city limits even had wrought-iron gates, like something out of a horror movie! Salem's lot or some shit.) anyway, after the preacher said the prayer,everybody walked to the coffin and took a flower from the casket. I didnt, however. I wanted no part of her. I did, however, lean down to the lid of the casket and whisper, "Hannah, get the fuck out of my room." And walked off. And havent had a bad dream since....
I do, however, need to work through these racist issues linked to her.