Eleven Days…

A lot can happen in eleven days. So many emotions, so many thoughts. I sit writing and for the first time since I’ve started this blog, I don’t know what to say. It isn’t for the lack of words or lack of issues to speak about but as a student of life, I try to study, observe, and grow from all that I’m exposed to.

In the past eleven days, terror, unrest, pain, death, and confusion has overshadowed the world. I’ve watched videos of men murdered. I’ve watched hundreds of people in other nations die as a result of attacks. Police, the authority to help govern our streets and communities, I’ve watched be attacked by ill-passion driven fools. In the past few days, we’ve seen a military attempt to overthrow their government oversees, and so much more that wasn’t reported.

It’s been a lot. I’ve had much time to think, reflect, and come to terms with some things. It really helped put some things in perspective even in my personal life. You try to salvage what little friendships you can with certain people. No matter how bad a fire is, how wrecked a car is…we do our best to restore if possible. Welp, I’ve done just that. And I found that not only wasn’t it mutual, seemed to be more annoying, bothersome, and I’d pretty much become like that Steve Urkle from the sitcom, “Family Matters.”

In eleven days, no calls, no texts, no messages. In eleven days, I came across more content between Grey and I than the entire time we were in love. Random people brought her up in random conversations, and though she was vaguely on my mind…her absence and silence was a constant reminder of the love loss. In eleven days, I realized just how little “friendship” meant. I’m learning to be mature enough to handle pain properly now. I don’t need a person to tell me how much they don’t love me anymore a million different ways for me to get it. I got it. …And I think I’m starting to be okay with it.

The world is growing cold. Hearts are becoming more vile and evil as the day goes on. BE A LIGHT and LOVE someone else. When you find that you’re so detached where another is happy without your presence….remove yourself and be content with never returning. Love them enough to let them be happy…and love you enough to let your heart get over them.

Eleven days taught me to value life. Value presence. I’ve learned to have a heart to those that want it and to love where love is needed.

That’s all I have.

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PRESSURE.

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 my own guy. #imgood

One of the tortures to the heart is beating for another that no longer beats for it back. We’re no longer in sync, no longer in harmony, one may skip and another may race, but together makes a big mess. So, as you’ve read by now…I’m selfish. If you haven’t….SHAME…all the shame on you!! Go scroll back two weeks after you read this one and after you comment. #laugh #iKidALittle

So yea… I’m a little selfish. I don’t like to share. I can be a bit territorial and can get jealous quite easily. My friends are MY friends, and if I like your friends…they become MY friends too. The double edge sword for me is that I’ve always been amazing friends with all of the people I’ve ever dated. It’s always sucked in the end because I always seem to lose both a great friend and great partner. Even after relationships, I STILL have it in my mind that they belong to ME….and I’m #theGuy.

No long blog, no deep thoughts…well…may be deep, I don’t know….we’ll see…may have something longer to say than this. But here’s the deal, you’ll always find yourself constantly offended, hurt, in your feelings if you continue claiming something that’s not yours anymore. When you move on, you’re not entitled to leave that much of your soul and heart in the past. LET. IT. GO.

After a while, you have to stop feeling sorry for you self, getting in your feelings, and just being unstable. And if you’ve messed up a good thing or two…forgive yourself. Move on. Stop giving yourself a place in hearts that have CLEARY shown you in word, actions, and with space that “this ain’t what it was.” When you let others go, that’s not a time to just sit and mourn or go find another deranged soul to love all over. It’s the time to find and love YOU. Release them…find you. Self sufficiency keeps you from putting on a show when you cross their path again.

I no longer worry about whose not there. Do I miss some people? ABSOLUTELY. I miss my dead daddy, too. Can’t change that though. Do I want some people back? Sure. But yo–I couldn’t keep doing this to my heart. I don’t get GM texts, GN nights, no one tells me, “thinking about you today,” and the “I love you’s” from my son are forced most days. But breh…I’m good. I’ve learned to love my self. I’m my own guy. I don’t depend on a clap from another that validate the dude I know I am.

One of the greatest lessons in the journey is learning to see that even with grey eyes…even being every bit of the dude some people can’t seem to love…I’m still a pretty dope dude. I’m good on all the extra stuff. I’m giving myself the heart that I seemingly gave to others….and you know what, it feels good. #imMyOwnGuy

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I’m think I’m waking up…

Meanwhile, I’m a hopeless romantic. No really, I am. ….Okay, maybe I lie a little. I’m not…but I have a good heart. The older I get, the more I find myself embracing the flaws of my reality. The uneven smile, the big nose, my voice… all of that is irrelevant these days. “I’m is who I’m is,” as Paula Deen said once. Physical imperfections just sort of faded with time . But there is just one thing I absolutely HATE about myself. I mean…most days I wish I could just throw it in the trash and get it replaced. I hate my heart, yo! I don’t have a million people in my life, and not one of the “drop” happy people that culture seems to celebrate. I value my relationships…even when I don’t honor them all the time.

I’ma jerk-tard. I have zero chill most days, but those I love…I love strong. To me, covenant and relationships mean something. I understand things in life happen, but I just believe love trumps all. I’m one that believes in fighting for healthy relationships….even when it’s too late. I don’t like people going in and out of my heart space. In my younger years, I would go through “friends” and “loves” like you wouldn’t believe. I didn’t care. Embracing the mid twenties, though still young, I’m realizing that all people aren’t the same. Some hearts, some loves, you only get to experience once. So I do my best to hold on to them.

I was speaking to my boy, and he called me a, “people hoarder.” True enough, I have problems keeping people past their expiration date. My heart is like the fridge that keeps everything in it. It appears full, but often reeks and stinks when opened…because of the spoiled contents. I’m the type of guy that if I love you, no matter if you chose not to love me, if you ask for the moon, I’ll find away to bring it along with the three brightest stars. My love doesn’t end because our friendship does. Not sure if that’s a good thing though. Some times we hurt because we don’t know how to let go. We dream dreams with the people and hurt like hell when we wake up.

The worst part about a dream is that eventually you have to wake up. No matter how deep it is, no matter how long, and despite the content in the dream…sooner or later, you’re back up again. And when you are, you have two options: snap back to reality and move on OR attempt to create your own fantasy world out of it. Both will hurt. But only one will heal. 

I’ve screwed some great relationships up over the years. Not all have recovered. There are some voids yet to be filled. So to fill the emptiness I often find myself trying to “mend” and “fix” things that will never be repaired again, but for the sake of memory…I try anyway. I’m the “maybe one day they may come around again,” type of guy. I’ll back away just enough not to harass, but check-in just enough for you to know I’m there if you ever need me. That kind of constant rejection…sheesh…it can weight you down. I mean…while I may not boo-hoo over it…it makes me act out in the pettiest of ways at times. Sucks, because no matter how much I love, how much I care, how much I try to make Grey see…she will never love me back. Feelings will never be mutual between the both of us again.

It’s wack breh. Like real wack. I think a lot. And at times…my mind leads me on emotional suicidal missions. Sending messages, expressing my heart…only to get “thanks” in return if anything at all. EVERYONE that knows me knows how much of a word geek I am. I love words. Quickest way to get under my skin is to ignore them and without them. But something is different these days. I don’t care anymore. I think I’m waking up.

I’ve gone to send messages and my phone has died mid text. The more serious messages, at times, I sent them, and Facebook would alert me with a red error message telling me it didn’t go through. Some mornings I’ve opened my eyes to my phone in hand with half texted messages from emotional nights, said…”chillllllll,” and deleted it.

You reach a point where all you can say is, “I tried,” and move on. No more trying to convince, no more pleading, no more checking-in on people. Delete the text thread. Delete the pictures. Stop holding on to memories that do nothing much revive a love that you can’t have anymore. WAKE UP. I told myself, “just stop.” Stop texting, stoping calling, stop asking for a call. No late night “hiiiiiiiii,” no more i-love-yous and random good morning, mid-day, and late night texts that go ignored. (Seee. I can have a heart when I want to.) I don’t care if you smile, and while it’s not my desire for anyones day to be bad….I don’t care to learn if it is. I’m too dope to be that attached to people that aren’t interested.

I’m up…like all the way up. No need to splash water in my face, no need to scream my name again. Get off of me, don’t touch me…there’s no need to shake me to make me respond…I got it now. Now on to the hard part…learning to stay up when everything in me says, “just five more minutes.”

 

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.”

Strange Places

WITCHCRAFT! I call the unforeseen, the unforgettable, and the unlikeable ways of the heart “witchcraft!” As a kid, I once feared guns and swords, but the older I get the more I realize how dangerous and wicked the heart can be…even against it’s own body. There is a school of thought that suggest we are to “follow our hearts.” Once a believer of it, I’m not sure if that’s really a good thing after all. I mean, I look at my own life and see that some times . . .most times, the heart screws up. It’s led me and my emotions on a journey that while grateful for the writing inspiration, I really believe I could have done without. My heart, my emotions, and because I’m a guy…even my man parts have all led me to some strange places and strange situations.

This blog is my journey into the wild. As a kid, I was taught and often viewed life in black or white. Things and people were either right or wrong. I didn’t believe in the middle ground. There was no such thing. But pain has a way of exposing the “grey” in even the most logical of us all. Things happen, and at times all we’re left with is an experience and perspective obscure and undefined. Right or wrong, good or bad…the heart can lead you to a place where things “just are” and there isn’t much you can do about it but simply let it be.

I’m trying to grasp the reality of things these days. Things are happening quick. Most days I feel like I put reality t.v. to shame. Strange places…strange times from a Pentecostal Jesus loving boy. How can you be single and taken at the same time? These undefined places have a way of bringing us all into insanity. I mean, you can be grateful but emotional, mature but yet still selfish…it’s a weird place guys. I think about love and most days just can’t figure it out. Who gets dumped twice in the same day? Me. Who loves singleness but hates being alone? Me. The ones I love…won’t love me back, and the ones that do love well…complicated stuff.

Every so often, I miss the love, I miss the “us” and I struggle to be back in harmony, but then logic kicks in, and I’m left fighting with the war within my own conscious. Question is, do I want back in because I’m really in love or because I’ve been forced out and no longer have access to the heart of another? I think about it. Truthfully, had I walked out of some relationships, I probably wouldn’t have looked back twice. But it never feels good getting beat playing a game that you set the rules for.

So I write. I explore…strange places. It’s a place where much like the forbidden fruit in the Bible, we want what we can’t have. “NO!” is pleasurable. The things that will give us our greatest agony is the thing that appears to give the greatest thrill.

But in my writing, make no mistake. I’m in a good place, but I’m in a “blah” place. I’m in the place of my decision, my thoughts, and my ways. Maybe it’s apart of manhood. Maybe it’s a part of growing up. Perhaps it’s a bit of dysfunction and dumb decisions. Whatever it is…it is. And I’m dealing with the reality of it all. Yea man, I’m in a strange place.

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