Dear Johns,

I am still waiting for that peaceful cabin in the woods. I guess that medical care is still out of the question. Denied and unable to try anything else. I am exhausted and getting sicker. My systems are slowing down. I’m doing my best but I can’t keep up. I am using too much energy to even breathe. It doesn’t matter. It is what it is. Natural causes, right? Or maybe I miraculously manage to survive somehow. Nobody cares. Not even me. Ugh.

I can’t even care anymore. Nobody is figuratively carrying me out of the jungle. I can’t exactly walk to the medic with a gaping bullet wound. Why do I constantly get denied help and shoved in the dirt? Am I too angry like my dad? Am I too soft like my mom? It’s not like you’ll talk or do anything but I am serious. I can’t understand these crimes and the response any more than Daddy could understand Vietnam.

I know that I’m not your fight. It’s society and science. It’s not criminal. The greater good. You understand me better than me. Ain’t amnesia fun. At least I can recognize and remember White people again. lol. Make a solid case; don’t let anyone get away; and most importantly, stay safe. Like Vietnam and LaShish, I hate this fucking shit but I’ll always love you.

Hopefully you’ll get these mother fuckers and that Lebanese one too. Huwa kelb. I knew some of what you didn’t charge him with. He is a dog. I’d spit but I’m an American lady and you wouldn’t see it. I cursed you but community stayed silent. I understood and then I heard and then I remembered and then I wanted to vomit. Houm kilaab. They are dogs. They are monsters. Yet they are human. Humans that turned into monsters. I understand them well. They are in my DNA.

It’s why the traffickers wouldn’t physically harm me. It’s why I understood the asylum seekers and trafficking survivors. They saw that I knew. It’s in the eyes. When I told one man that I was a trafficking victim, we stared into each other’s eyes for an abnormally long time. I said that I understood. I try to memorize faces so that I know who to trust in the future. Remember me.

I am the child of a trafficking survivor. I am the child of a monster. I survived. I don’t know why. I just know how. I’ll do my best. My story should be heard. Inshallah. This must end. No more stolen relatives. We must all be free. Give ‘em hell for me, boys! I’m a little busy with trying to McGyver medicine and manage the Living Death with unchecked blood pressure. It’ll be fine. Still better than Methodist. That’s for sure. Give ‘em all hell, boys! Subhanatallah.

Stay safe, always. You know the rules. You have to come home safe or else we kill you. I didn’t make the rules but I like that one.

Every life matters, especially yours.

God bless Nebraska and especially Her people.