Who knew being so strong could make you so weak?
I feel like it was last week that those stupid Justin Timberlake “it’s gunna be may” memes went viral.
I’m trying to take days and weeks and months one at a time. Baby steps. I’ve been creating new habits and doing things I’ve been wanting to. Now that I’m finally home for the summer, I’m excited for it.
I’m determined to become a different person by August. I love myself more than I ever have, but things need to change.
On May 12th, one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met in my life straight up dropped dead that day. No reason or health complication at all except for the fact that life isn’t fair. I think it’s finally sunk in. All my life, people have been taking things from me and I’ve been looking for some sort of retribution… There is none nor will there be. Nobody owes you anything in this world; even when they do, they don’t. I’ve finally accepted that.
Too much has been happening lately. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it. It sucks. And I feel the changes; but like everything I’ve ever encountered, I won’t let it steal my light.
And as my lips curled to find the words “I love you” in full bloom once again, my mind struck my tongue and chastised my heart for such impulses.
Stupid, stupid girl.
The darkness. My face.
The ugliest parts of myself.
All grotesquely hideous.
I love them.
Everyone. All fucking nuts.
I am crookedly demented.
It’s the best part about me.
My best friend.
Each quivering layer is beautiful. Folk tales.
Underneath them all, is me.
I. I have been violated.
Washed away like broken shells.
Lost all across the ocean floor.
I am what makes the water glow and the waves churn profusely.
I just said goodbye to my roommate.
She was starting to pack up the last of her things as I was leaving for work and as I causally uttered my routinely “later girlie”, we both realized that that would be the last time I said it.
My side is already bare. My messy desktop remains just that but it’s surrounded by bare walls, a bare mattress, bare dresser drawers, and a bare closet; a true reflection of myself.
When I return from my shift, her side will be more naked than mine. The empty space that was there before all of our belongings ate it up, will be regurgitated and the floor will be cold and unfamiliar.
We weren’t best friends; but we got along just great which is a lot more than other people have said about their relationship with their roommates. We could even sit in the same room and sing along to the same songs. Growing up an only child with a single mom, I never had to share a room with anyone let alone share a bathroom with three other girls.
College is a hard transition for many folks on so many varying levels. I just want to thank you Marissa, for being such a good roommate. You have a kind heart and you’re absolutely gorgeous, stay that way and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. From all the crazy parts of your life story that you’ve offered to share with me to our girl talks filled with advice and understanding, these eight months have been nothing short of hilarious. We never see each other around campus, but I really do hope to see your frazzled face around sometime soon.
All the love,
- Art exhibit.
- Photo lab.
- Scored a practice room.
- Music Theory Final.
- CC with Steffon.
- Struggle blunt.
- Love Park.
- Got my baby back from Jelani.
- Barnes & Nobles.
- Georgia O’Keefe, Basquiat, Vermeer, Michael Angelo, etc.
- Art books and Mangas.
- Took amazing photos.
- Rittenhouse Square.
- Breakfast in the SAC.
- My bed.
But it’s a very sad day.
I know you wouldn’t want me to be sad today. I know you wouldn’t want me to be sad any day. So I won’t be. I’ll try not to be. I can’t believe 365 days have passed already. You made an imprint on my whole life. On everyone’s life. Especially Krizya. She’s awesome btw, I know you watch over her. I think of you, I hope you’re enjoying yourself.. where ever you are.. up there.. or whatever.
Rest easy Jamaal. ❤
All my guys have been different. Their sign. Their personalities. Their races. Their interests and hobbies. Even their haircuts or lack thereof.
I never saw the sense in dating the same type of brotha. Why would you want to be reminded of someone it didn’t work out with? The way you two were together is why it didn’t work and Einstein said the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing but expecting different results.
The only things they all seem to have in common are their Jordan’s. They aren’t a requirement, just a coincidence. I don’t wear them, I think they’re overrated. But Asha pointed it out to me today. I’m pretty sure all my guys have a pair of cement III’s, and that coincidence is hilarious to me. I’ll write a poem about it someday. An ode to you niggas. But not today.
Neither is better than the other. When executed well, they’re both beautiful, exciting, and moving in their own ways. If you can get them both at the same time, that’s even better. But sex ain’t better than love and love ain’t better than sex, that’s for damn sure.
I want to be loved. And I realize that that stems from not being loved appropriately as a child. There’s this neediness in me that literally makes me sick, because I’m naturally a self sufficient person. I never need anyone or anything, but this insatiable yearn to be cared for is deep rooted. I want to find myself in it and I want it to be mutual. Beautiful. True. I want to wake up in the morning and know that there’s someone that is as for me as I am for them. I want to be able to share every particle of myself with someone who wants to build a galaxy with me. And as much as I want to, I can’t erase that feeling.
I want to be sexed. Tenderly. Passionately. Explosively. I want to be engulfed by the blackness of a room and it’s soft shards of creeping moonlight. I want to drown slowly between the softness of cotton sheets and the softness of my lovers worn epidermis as they drown in me. I want to be caressed like an infant. Hold me close and then hurt me. Abruptly spank me and choke me. I want to be blinded by fluorescent lights, slammed against the wall, and fucked into the nth dimension. Two types of sex, equally as intense.
I just want to win. Foreal.
Is that too much to ask for?
I don’t do shit to anyone, ever.
I try to be good.
Yet folks still leave and shit still falls apart.
I just want everything to come together.
That “I would’ve came back for you. I just needed time. I was just fuckin them hoes, I was gonn’ get right back,” shit is cute to a certain extent.
And I will wait if I consider someone worth it. But I’m not gunna waste away a portion of my life being faithful to false hope.
I have a friend going through that now and I keep my mouth shut for the most part because she’s stubborn. But truth be told, niggas will tell you they want you to wait around for them to be “ready” just so they can keep your pussy in their back pocket. If not that, they’re afraid of being alone and you’re the dummy still there for him when all the smart hoes peep the bullshit and leave.
Don’t get me wrong, women are just as slick. But bottom line:
You come into this world alone. You leave alone. Live for you. Not anyone else.
Like I said, having patience is good. Waiting for someone to be prepared to receive you is okay, if they’ve established that’s what the deal is. But if you’re waiting around for four months and shit and still just NOT doing you, you need to reevaluate your priorities and recognize that you’re an option.
Where you talk to someone damn near every day and you exchange information about how you are and what you like. You exchange views on basic things, then less basic things like the meaning of life and death, astrology, energies, and our government. You seem to have everything in common and enjoy conversation for days on end. You might even start to like someone you’ve never even seen face to face.
I wish I could stay there forever. But that isn’t real. What you are is everything you want to be seen as. You want to be liked. You want to be spoken to. Desired in a way even. That isn’t you. Only fragments of you.
I wish I could stay there forever.
But sometimes I don’t. It makes meeting people interesting. Seeing who they wished they were, seeing the parts of them they are most proud to show.
That makes the less attractive parts of who they are more interesting when they start to show.
Idk. Whatever. Fuck.
All of you guys.
For the beautiful things you put in my inbox & fan mail. For the encouraging things you reply to my text posts with. Thank you.
I know it seems like I bitch & moan about a lot of things sometimes, but I come here to vent because I don’t really have anyone else to listen to my shit. Most of you, I haven’t even had a single conversation with let alone seen face to face. Yet you guys still manage to make me feel warm & fuzzy inside.
My mom called me twice today. She left two breakdowns in my voice-mail. Between the sniffles and the muffled cracks of voice, she said something about some things my father “foretold” to her the last time they went to court right after my 18th birthday…
“—I’m just so sad… I don’t want it to be that way, Kasha, between us. I love you so much. He said I would— I don’t know.. I don’t wanna push you away from me… I don’t want you to cut me out of your life.. I love you.. I love you baby…”
My mom never calls me “baby”. She never has. Not even once. Ever. I don’t know what’s going on at home, but I don’t want to go back. And that’s exactly what she’s afraid of… which is why I’m torn. I love my mom. Hearing her deep sob as the voice-mail ended made my heart ache. But I’ve had enough instability. I’m sick of it. I’ve been working on cleaning up this mess of a mind that I have, I don’t need ‘home’ to become an unstable environment for me again.
I’m working hard as fuck. Literally busting my ass. At work. In school. Creatively. On myself as an individual. I’m working hard to make everyone at home proud. I want to embody greatness.
Nobody gets into my head like she does. As much as I love her, if staying away from ‘home’ is what I have to do to preserve my sanity, I will. I don’t know if this is what a mid-life crisis is or if this is being brought on by guilt, but my mom falling apart is something that I don’t need. She’ll bring me down with her, and like a fool, I’ll go because I’m always tryna save someone from some shit. I need to start remembering that the only person I can truly save is myself.
I’ve hardened my heart, I’m trying to see how long I can go without crying about anything (35 days & counting). So I’m going to write here and internalize everything, even though I know that is just as bad as crying about it. I’ll be okay though. I just need to comfort myself here & there so I can make sure I stay okay. I need to occupy myself this summer with good company and lots of productivity. I need to go places and laugh a lot.
These past few weeks have shown me that I really do love school. (I know that’s a “said no one ever” statement, but still.)
Yeah, sure there’s a bunch of bullshit that we have to learn only to never revisit again like finding the geometric mean, iambic pentameter, or even when to use Newton’s law. But one should never hate learning.
There are things about school that I don’t like. I hate standardized testing. I don’t like how institutionalized teaching works in a lot of ways. I hate how Eurocentric American education is. But I like school because I learn things about myself through the lifestyle and my eyes are open to things that I should know through things that I’m supposed to know.
My dad always tells me, “College only teaches you what you’re supposed to know. Not what you should know.”
Which is why it’s not for everyone. But it’s for me because I want to know what I should as well as what I’m supposed to know. I think that along with knowing you actually don’t know shit is what true knowledge is.
I’ve been bothered lately by the fact that I’m 19 and I don’t know exactly what I want to be “when I grow up”. I know I’m young, but I want to have everything in order now, I hate not knowing stuff and I hate making mistakes. I’m impatient with my life in that way. But I’ve realized college isn’t for that “playing it safe” shit. People get degrees and make a living in careers in different fields. College is for fucking up and not knowing anything. College is also for growing and figuring out what you like, what you don’t like, and most importantly: who you are.
As it should be.