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There’s always that one person that will always have your heart,
You never see it coming cause you’re blinded from the start
Know that you’re that one for me, it’s clear for everyone to see
Ooh baby ooh you’ll always be my boo.

Usher feat. Alicia Keys, “My Boo”


Helllllooooo, it’s me. I’m IS back!! I know, I know, I say it with each new post….but seriously…I’m here…at least for this post anyway. So, hope you’ve been amazing since our last chat. It’s my hope that you’ve grown, healed, some how become a better human being or whatever on your journey.

So….I think I have a BAE. Like I real one…unofficially. But I don’t want to make a big fuss about it. I don’t do the whole title, commitment to title, and acknowledgement to bond stuff to well. I don’t know…I think we tend to make a big production sometimes out of things that are just common knowledge. I’ve had “bae” and the whole spill in my day, and yet a titles didn’t make bae mine anymore than the clarinet i had to give back at the end of the school year in grade school. Okay, maybe I lie a little…I never played the clarinet…I’m an ar-teast (artist), let me paint my picture here… I’ve had those that were “just friends” and have been in love with “just friend.” I’m learning that while titles aren’t completely irrelevant, they aren’t everything.

Journey with me. Think with me. Let’s talk for a bit.

So, I’ve been single for a while. Like nobody wants me. I mean…people want my elmo…but they don’t want my brain or my heart or whatever…you know…all the stuff that wouldn’t make me a whore. Yea…no one ever wants that. I did my share of wallowing, playing games, and pushing others away. I asked myself a question one day, and the answer left me warm and tingly all over…I felt like well…tingly…you get the point.

What is bae? Bae is who you tell all the news too. Good. Bad. Indifferent. You waste time with bae. You fight about everything, spend hours talking about nothing, and know everything about each other, yet still find new things about each other that you’ve never known. Bae is the soul that dares to journey life with you. The one who grows as you grow. And crazy enough…bae can have a bae, and yet what you share can supersede that. It’s scary what a bond can do. No sex, no agreement…yet amazingly happy. What’s yours is yours, what’s mine is mine…but in the words of Trey Songz, “holla if you need meeee, always gone be my boo…holla if you neeeed me, you know I still got you, and if you ever need me to be, what you need me to be, just remember you can holla at me.”Yo…I got that. I mean, I legit got that. Not in love or nothing…but yea…I got bae…and bae got me. This is verrrrry interesting. Stay tune.

Am I crazy? Am I just a whore? Am I just confused?

Talk. Tell. Don’t do toooooo much in the comments though.

Be nice.

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Hey!! I’m back. I know. I know. It’s unstable. It’s sporadic. I need to do better. SOOOOO much better. I got it…now you see why my relationships screw up. NO COMMITMENT. lol iJoke. iKid. But I just want to say thanks to you guys/gals that check on my page every week, hit me up, and support this writing. It means something to this little black face fella.

Ummm….so much has happened, so much has changed. I can write super “juicy” content, I can spill my life on screen and take down things of my past along with me. I can throw shots, be petty, and just talk about all sorts of things. But that’s just not me anymore. I’ve been inspired to grow. In my time away, I’ve been busy a bit. I’ve had a few bumps along the way, but all in all…I’m still moving. Thing about moving is, at times, you don’t get a chance to sit back and think. THINKING. Ah, I’ve reflected on a few things. I want to share my latest process. Tell me what you think. COMMENT. share. It’ll make me feel dope. Ha.

One of the greatest struggles I’ve had to deal with wasn’t so much with people. It wasn’t even with the pain of what I believe they caused. In my time of growing, I realized, a lot of what was a cycle for me was because of my inability to release people from roles they weren’t designed to fill. Pain caused disbelief, and disbelief often made me inflict self torture by repeating the same cycle hoping other’s would pass the test.

Truth is…I’ve had problems separating miracles from reality. Much like a superhero, that comes to save the day, I looked for Superman to be Superman even when they had no cape. I was determined that people had to love me, help me, be there because of great rescues of the past. And one day, it hit me. Like really…I had an aha moment, sipping my pink lemonade that had a sligggght chill to it. I can love Superman without having to befriend Clark Kent. Kent lived a different life, in a different world, with different foes, friends, and loves. That never negated the fact that when needed to be, that cape came out, and he’d save the day.

ANNNY OF THIS MAKING SENSE? I sure hope so. What a way to return and fail…sheesh. Must be a little rusty. But yea man…yea…girl? Whoever you are reading this. My point is simple…be cool with superman. Be cool in knowing that if you need ’em, you can call them, and you know they’ll always have your back. That’s dope. But with that, know that if you haven’t been given access beyond the cape, you probably won’t. Make peace with that too.

Don’t overcomplicate things.

Don’t over-think.



And allow people to evolve. Roles change. Be okay with that. I’m in a phase where I love EVERYBODY and I want us all to smile. Be honest. Admit how you feel. You loved the moments and you loved the rescue…that doesn’t change and you’re not bad for feeling that way. Loving Superman isn’t wrong, but hating Clark Kent is. Learn to appreciate lasting bonds that live past the termination of a season.


that’s all i got. (yes….GOT)

I’ll bring my mojo back next week.


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Sandcastles and Rain

Hey guys…and gals!! Yo! Been a busy week or so. I have to be better consistent in checking in. Thanks for the feedback, comment, and shares on the last post. Your public support means more than you know. Good job!! Meanwhile, I have a few random little thoughts I’d like to share. Comment. Share. Leave some feedback. Like. Hate. Whatever. Just say something!! lol


Meanwhile…I have nothing bad to say. I have no enemies to fight. I hate no one. I love everyone. I mean…I have a few people I don’t mess with…but nevertheless, we all good. Life has a way of bringing balance if you let it. Storms are dramatic. Their nature is often filled with turbulence, chaotic moments, strong winds, and such. Energy and emotions are high, and they can get a bit frantic. But even after the storm, there’s a erie calm. A few things may be disbursed, things may be a little scattered, but nonetheless….you assess, rebuild, and keep going.

Life is filled with storms. Some things you can predict, and some…they’re just unpredictable. Okay. Cool. Rebuild. The sun comes out again. You Laugh. Remember the joy of a Summer afternoon at the beach. The laughs, the picnics, and the swimming. The rain did what it did, so that the sun can do what it’s suppose to. That’s life. Embrace it and don’t fight it….but don’t stay stuck either. You shouldn’t always have rainy moments. Don’t live your life in a storm. GOOD VIBES ONLY.

Manage and steward your emotions well this year. Don’t make storms out of clouds. I’m learning how to just chill out over certain things. Once upon a time I would get irate, offended, and emotional about certain issues. Petty by nature, and a jerk by trade, it’s easy to become a jerk-tard about certain things I feel jaded by. But I’m entering into a new stage of sobriety. I will not bring rain to the sandbox.

SMILE. Enjoy the sun. Go to the beach…build a castle.

I’m building my sandcastle…even if I have to build it alone. Nothing will knock it down. No waves or storms will wash it away. I won’t sabotage my building by giving another the power to kick it over. I’ll enjoy my time at the beach, and then go home. And when the next storm comes, I’ll find some time to dance in it. I’ll smile anyway. I’m in a pretty positive place. Enjoying my world and those that want to be in it.

-building sandcastles.

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I’m Growing Up…

Hiiiiiiiiii!!!! How are you? Meanwhile, like and comment on my posts!! I get so much feedback privately, let me know how you guys feel…on here. Make me feel good a bout my self, it is my birthday and all. And share if you care. But I DIGRESS. Let’s talk for a bit.

Meanwhile, I LOVE moments. I am a big baby. I’m the guy with the heart of gold whose words are enchanting and have an overall cool demeanor. I don’t do well with expressing it all often, but all in all…yea..I’m that guy. I live for creating dope moments. I once had albums full of moments I’ve capture in my icloud. Typically good morning texts, random I love you texts, and other jerkish little messages from those I hold close. Pictures in dope places, a snapshot of the sky during a great conversation, I even still have the mailing envelops of random little gifts because the inside still smell like my favorite cologne. Wack, I know. I take MY moments seriously.

Sometimes the greatest misfortune can be damaging a potentially incredible future based on an awesome past. Some things we can’t get back. We have to learn how to embrace what we had, be thankful for the experience, and move on. We can’t make today be what yesterday was. I had a horrible habit of comparing who was there to those that stuck around and would be puzzled why those present were offended. Life doesn’t work that way. We weren’t meant to live in repeat. You can’t make people love you in a way you were once loved. All hearts are not the same. You won’t be treated like how someone treated you because you may not be viewed the same. We all have our pick. And hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’re just not the pick of the one you want. Make peace with that, and grow up.

You have dope moments. GREAT.

You were hurt. OH.

You lived a life….GOT IT.

But you must grow up. Life is a journey. There will always be new discoveries. I’m learning to appreciate each moment as they come. Much like snowflakes, no two alike. I’ve have some incredible moments with some incredible people. Moments…that were almost magical. But I’ll never love them that way again. I loved Xena, The Warrior Princess growing up. But I can’t be paid to watch it today. You get it? Things change. And that’s okay. Love comes when it comes in the way that we need it when it comes. I still smile and respect what was, but I’ve grown not to look for that again.  Don’t tarnish a good memory looking for another good feeling.

I’m learning life isn’t about reliving a moment…sometimes it’s about embracing the next.


Dear Gray…I’m looking..I’m ready. Let’s write a new book.


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Blood, Scabs, and an Epiphany.

MEANWHILE, I’m a creative. I’m the hopeless romantic that isn’t all that romantic. I’m the relationship blogger that suck at love. The thing is…what I experience, what I know, and what I do almost never compliment each other. The sensible side and the imaginative side tend to war within. I have a secret. I believe in happily-ever-afters. THAT my friend is what screws me up. EVERY TIME. I believe a heart that says, “I love you.” And to ones that don’t, I often tell myself, “one day.” I believe in the harmonic flow of a healthy beating heart. I think love is dope. I think love is incredible. It’s just….maybe not for me. I mean, I want it to be…but, I don’t think love loves me. It’s been my experience that those who love big…often bleed big. I’ve bled a lot. And every so often without noticing, though I think I’m well, the blood of a picked scab will remind me just how much more I have to go.

Have you ever fallen and scrapped yourself…or maybe even cut yourself? It hurts! Like the initial pain…really hurt. Some of the pain that makes us bleed are deeper than others. Some cuts you clean, bandage and go on with the day, yet find that the blood keeps coming…even through the bandage. And then along comes the scabs. It’s a sign that the cut is healing, but it never looks pretty. Just because the bleeding stops, it doesn’t make the wounds invisible. Scars are the proof of real pain. As a kid, hating how ugly scabs appeared, I did my best to get rid of them…but I found that every time I did, I just bled again. Old wounds became new pain, and while it wasn’t the same…the feelings were unnecessary.  I have a habit reliving things in new ways and calling it new things. 

How many times do we have to bleed and relive the same pain before we get it? I look at my record. I tend to torture myself falling for hearts that I know can never love me back. I’m the type of dude that if you got me, you got me. Even after you’ve dropped me…I’m there. You can need the moon, and I’d find a spaceship to go get it and the three brightest stars just in case you thought about needed it later. But often that compassion left me being skipped and incomparable to a Walmart bus ride by another. I haven’t always been hurt though. I’ve hurt too. There were those that loved me beyond what I was willing to love about me and therefore pushed them away. I held people to a standard that other’s failed to live up to and kept them at a distance.

Maybe love isn’t bias. Maybe we just have to stop loving the wrong way. Perhaps new love won’t remind you of an old pleasure. New love will make you smile in different ways. LOVE is real. It can be beautiful… if you let it be.

Stop bleeding. Stop making others pay for what someone did or didn’t do. No one is obligated to change your bandage.

Stop picking at old wounds. Stop the memories. Stop bringing up old laughs, moments, and pain. It’s not healthy. Pain isn’t a bonding tool. What broke your heart shouldn’t be the tagline of your bio. We go picking scabs in hopes of finding “healing” “wholeness” and “closure” when all we do is bleed, awaken desire, and stir up emotions. Just heal.

REALIZE it will happen. LOVE will come when it decides to come. Just be emotionally stable and mature enough to handle it when it does. Love shouldn’t be one sided and it shouldn’t be painful. Love just loves. It confronts, it challenges, and it causes you to make bold decisions…but sacrifice is easy when you’re all in it. Be all in it. We’re getting older. Our hearts aren’t getting any younger. We can’t keep giving ourselves heart attacks beating for people, things, and hearts just will never beat for us. BEAT IT UP. I mean that in the purest sense. Change the rhythm of your beat.

Bring reality into your imagination. It’s a good thing to dream. But some times dreams turn into nightmares. But some times dreams end and when they do, you have to make a decision of waking up and living life, or creating a fantasy and living in a memory. IT DIDN’T WORK. IT’S NOT WORKING. IT’LL NEVER WORK.










  • beat responsibility.
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I don’t wanna hurt.

I don’t want to hurt.

Pain is real. LOVE is real. At times, the trigger of a memory is strong enough to break us down. Emotions are powerful and I’m learning those that are often victims of our reckless emotions are the ones that love us the most. What do you do when you’re in too deep? I’m learning that NOTHING is without sacrifice and NOTHING is without consequence.

So, here’s what it is: My battle has been long, bloody, and painful. But it hasn’t been all bad. Life is about the journey. We love. We hurt. We grow. We pain. We learn. We screw up and we do life stuff. NONE of that is wrong. You’re not penalized for exploring your journey. You’re allowed to fail, but you’re not allowed to died. Keep growing, keep living. That’s what this stuff is about. I’ve been hurt. But I’ve also hurt. It’s crazy how one soul’s freedom can be another’s prison.

Just when my heart started beating again, no love loss, hate, petty tendencies to manifest (…okay maybe a little, because it’s my love language), but just when I thought I was ready to move on…I’m back in a world I thought I left behind. How can a painful experience be such a beautiful beginning at the same time? What I should hate…I like. What I shouldn’t care about, I hurt over. This shouldn’t be my reality. But it is.

DEAR GREY, I’m sorry. If I would have known then that by exploring my journey, you would known the pain I knew myself, I would have never walked down that path. I’ve thought about you before. Only I didn’t know it was you. Before, you were just like everyone else. But in knowing you and coming to know you, I realize you’re one of the greatest people I’ve met. I want you on my journey, I want you in my world. We seem to have the perfect things in common. Yet so many things to hate each other for. But instead…the authenticity of who we are seem to bring us closer in a weird twisted sorted way.

Deep emotions reveals certain paths…such as aren’t common for most. Look, I don’t know much. But I do know it’s not just as simple as 123, abc. Our path isn’t like the average person’s. We have to accept that and grow to be dope in spite of that. Let’s hate each other if we must. Cry. Fight. And do what is needed to heal…but at the end of the day…WE MUST HEAL. We’re too awesome to be broken.

Can’t promise it’ll be cool overnight. But what I can say is I’m willing to ride the wave with you until you’re good. I’m in it with you with a good heart. I just want to see you well.

-a complicated world.


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Breh!! Sister Breh!! Hiiiiiiiiiiii.

I’m excited writing this week’s blog. I’m happy, I’m sleepy, I want chicken, I have pop-tarts, but overall, I feel good. Nahhhh, I won no lottery. I gained no worldly possessions this week…although I’m open to any and all donations. #iKiddALittle #LaughALittle

Meanwhile. Question.

Do you know what it’s like to be consumed by your own desires? Have you any idea what it feels like to be captive and enslaved by the taintedness of your own heart…wanting things you can’t have, and loving the people that won’t love you back? It’s hell being stuck in a vicious cycle of attraction, obsession, and heart attacks. A senseless romance is what I call it. What do you do when being a victim has left you bearing chips on your shoulder, but life has made you a terror to the hearts of others? You bare guilt, regret, and hopes of wishing the right one came back and would love you again.

As a kid, I hated cleaning, but I loved cleanliness. I hated the work it took to gain order, but felt my best in an organized environment. I remember stacking all of my books up, trying to carry them, and I ended up injuring my face as they came tumbling down on me. I didn’t want the responsibility of taking what I could handle. That would have seemingly taken too long, so I just grabbed them all to save time. As a result of that…I cut my face under my right eye. It could have been avoided, and it could have been done a different way. But trying to beat time came with a price. Not only was I now scarred, but now took longer to do what I initially was doing because now I had to collect everything again.

That’s what pressure looks like. Pressure isn’t like pain. But it can lead to it. Pressure is intense enough that it can’t be ignored, it’s a constant reminder of existence.  If you’re anything like me, most of the issues aren’t pain worthy…it’s pressure. And at times…pressure can feel like a heart attack. We carry experiences, emotions, and chips daily. It’s easy not to examine what’s on our backs and in our hearts. We often just continue going until the weight we carry crumble on us. Emotions come spewing out that we thought were long gone. Names, memories, feelings manifest…and all the while the only thing you can do is cry. Well not me…me…I just eat pop-tarts and watch a Meryl Streep moving. If you’re judging me…you’re judging your moms first.

I know pressure. I’m a millennial black man trying to be dope…I tend to carry things…emotions…and people especially way longer than I should. People that have left my presence a long time ago, yet still occupy in some regard space in my heart. But things are changing. I had a conversation with someone I deeply loved one day, but couldn’t be with anymore. After long nights of being sleepless and frustration, days of  being semi-ignored, the lack of communication, the lack of love, the thoughts, hopes, and desires of one day winning bae back ….yo…I realized in the middle of a conversation. It had NOTHING to do with “us” and wasn’t thinking about it actually. In a basic conversation, I realized…I don’t care anymore. Not in a bad way…just…well, all of that extra stuff wasn’t my weight to carry anymore.

I think I’m mastering what I couldn’t grasp as a kid. I’m learning to deal with things…one at a time. One book, two books, three books, four… There’s no need to deal with it all at once. I’m in no rush for time…no more need for injuries and heart issues. Nahhh…I’m dealing with life and its issues, and I’m taking my time to free myself.

The pressure…it isn’t there anymore. It’s getting easier to breathe. I’m seeing clearly…I’m loving better…and my focus is pretty legit.

Freedom feels good.

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I’m Selfish…Divorce Me.

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.”