Personal Narrative on Morals

As I was walking down church avenue, all I could think about was my Iphoneless pocket. “Freaking black people,” I mumbled under my breath as to not let the crowds of black people around me hear, “you can never trust them.” The sight of them just burned my eyes. Them and their sagged pants that looked like they had 100 pound weights in their pockets, disgusting. As I walked on, the only thing that was roaming around my mind was a memory I was trying so hard to forget. It wasn't a full memory though just, bits and pieces. It was of a black kid. I don't remember any of his features, I didn't want to. “Hey can I make a call,” he said. I wasn't the type of person to judge anyone, I mean why should a person's skin be a factor in anyone's decision to do something. This teenager could have been the nicest person in the world. So I gave him my phone. The memory then cuts to me standing there gasping for air saying, “ Nicest guy in the world my butt.” That was all I remembered, but it was enough. Enough to drive my anger towards black people, which for me, meant my entire neighborhood.
How could I have been such an IDIOT, I said in my head as I walked down the block. I should have seen this coming. I mean he was bla-, I was in mid-thought, when suddenly a black woman, who looked like she could lose a few pounds, bumped into me as she was going the direction opposite of me. “Watch where you're going,” she said. I could hear the anger and annoyance in her voice. My blood started to boil, my heart raced, I was ready to punch someone. I turned towards her “ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME. Maybe you should lay off the fried chicken ” is what I wished to say, but I held my breath. I just stared at her back as she walked away.
As I treaded along Church avenue, I spared no black person who came within my line of sight of my racist comments. I didn't care if it was wrong. I mean did that black kid care if it was wrong to steal my phone. Obviously not, because then I wouldn't be walking home phone-less. Did that black lady even bother to care to, oh, I don't know move to the side or say excuse me. NO, she didn't. I mean why shouldn't I judge, I bet black people judge me all the time. I bet that kid who stole my phone had one or two judgments about me. Freaking black people, I said in my head.
I finally reached the front of my apartment building. As I entered I noticed this small black kid coming out of the building. When he saw me, he stopped. I recognized him. I didn't know his name, but I knew a thing or two about him. I saw him everyday. Once when I left for school, and once when I came back. Each time I saw him he would say the most random of things about his life. Like how he was in the first grade, or how he thought this one kid named Devon was just the meanest person in the world for throwing a pencil at him. I didn't particularly care much for these facts. Most times he would say something that he thought was funny. Although the things he said weren't funny at all, I went along and smiled anyway. As I looked as this kid, I could find no such fault. You could say he was, in a way, “stereotypically clean”. “You know, you look like a person from the wolf people,” he said with a straight face. I don't know if I smiled or not, I may have given a half smile, but I know I replied “You mean, from Twilight?” “Yea, from Twilight, the movie about vampires and werewolves.” “Heh, yea, except I don't have any abs,” I said. This time I knew I was smiling, and I could tell, as he started to smile as well. “Well, see ya,” he said and walked away. I turned around and watched as he walked down the block and around the corner. That's why Ervin, that's why you shouldn't judge, a voice in my head said. I turned around, walked up the steps to the front door of my building and said, “yea.”