Just one blog in, and I already feel like SJP writing her famous entries on episodes of, “Sex and the City.” YES. I used to watch it. Clown me. Judge Me. Just know whatever you say to me goes straight back to your mom. #iJokeALittle #iKidALittle Laugh. Appreciate all of the feedback, if you can though, drop me a comment here instead of Facebook. It makes it appear that I actually have readers instead of just ranting to space. But I digress.
Breh! Sister-Breh! So, I may be selfish. I don’t like to share things close to the heart. I mean, I will give you my last dollar, but my last meal…ehhhh. I’d prefer to buy you your own. I don’t like to share my friends, my pop-tarts, or my fruit drinks. I remember being perhaps six years old getting this new toy from the store. I don’t remember what it was, but it had all of these lights and was pretty dope. Dope enough that I didn’t want anyone touching it even when I was tired of it. My little cousin had to be about three at the time. He asked to play with it, and I was made to give it to him. I stood over him, upset, throwing punches into the air all the while he sat enjoying immensely the thing that I didn’t care about. My aunt walked in behind me and told him to give it to me and bought him his own. I said, “oh no, it’s fine he can play with it.” She said no, took it from him, and gave it back to me. It wasn’t until he got something better, that I gave it to him willingly, wanting him to play with it.
I didn’t want anything in return like most kids did. I didn’t want to play with his toys. I just wanted him to take pleasure in something I had to offer again. I didn’t care what other toys he played with, or how much better they were than mines, I just didn’t want him to move on from me and mine. When he didn’t care, I got angry, and said, “fine!” It gave me my argument of why I stayed to myself and didn’t share my things. Oddly enough, that’s pretty much been my deal throughout life and how I handle things. It’s crazy how little habits we create in our childhood can grow with us and manifest in all areas of life. I learned at an early age, how to build walls and give excuses on why I was right and ways were best.
Are we what we experience? “Hurt people hurt people,” is what they say, but how true is it though? I believe it has some merit based on my own life. I’ve been in love. Like real love. I’ve loved so that I would have given a rib if they needed one. But sadly enough, some of those people didn’t love me back. Nothing I could say, do, or be could ever change the fact that they just weren’t into me. It’s nothing but torture to sit and watch the one you love be in love someone else. It drove me insane at times. I clearly was a glutton for punishment. Even though it was chaotic, the good moments seemingly trumped the terrible.
But I’m no saint. Just as I’ve been hurt…I’ve also hurt. I’ve had people love me. I mean would go get me gold from Westminster Abbey if I wanted. But for some dysfunctional reason, I’ve always had a bad sense of timing. My revelatory moments often come too late. While I often have those in my life loving me and ready to catch me when I fall, I’m typically on the other side of life jumping for the catch of a person that will never look up to see me stumbling.
One day I found myself tossed between two passions…both tainted and twisted. I spent so much time telling the one who loved me about who didn’t, that I neglected to see the true gem that I had the entire time. That gem…was incredible. Best friend status, no one could quite make me smile the same. At the time I had them, I didn’t want her… but I didn’t want her to want anyone else either. I don’t like people moving on from me…not toooo far anyway. Move on and have your picks, but keep me at the top of the priority list. Some people you take advantage of and you never expect them to move BEYOND you.
Something happened. For weeks, I struggled trying to figure out what was up. No real meaningful conversations… the calls, texts, and their geeky little ways were no more. In searching for answers, I found nothing more than an absence that screamed louder than any fight we’d ever had, “I’m sorry, but I gotta’ love me more than I love you.” Bae, Boo, and the rest of the people I’d chained to me finally divorced me. With their emotions, feelings, and heart bandaged, bruised, and in their hands…they walked out of my life no longer willing to be “almost good enough.” Initially I was mad, then in my feelings, but then…then I got it. For the first time…I got it. No excuses of why I don’t get close to people or let them in. People had something for themselves that I didn’t have….a love for self enough to wake up from a silly fable. They didn’t hate me…they just love themselves more. I had to love those that left enough to let them be free…even if I was the chains that held them hostage. It took some growing, and it took some maturity, but finally I was able to admit, “I’m selfish.”