Give Our Roses In the Present, as Presents

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We've all grown up together, in some way or fashion, some association or another. When we met, we were girls. And when we get together these days, it's as women.

The women above are my best, truest and only friends as we gathered to celebrate my mother and stepfather's nuptials; 1 is missing as we were awaiting the birth of my amazingly handsome but stubborn godson. It doesn't hit us how much time has passed or even how much we've grown and matured until we've gotten together like this, in this sort of capacity. Some of us weren't even in our teens when we met, but we were surely unaware of the lives we would lead as the years would progress. And furthermore, the crucial roles we would play in the lives of one another.

Thru the years, we've experienced a lot and much of it in the form of raw emotions that sometimes, have gone awry. From arguments that have served as roadblocks due to our immaturity and inability to communicate properly to learning what it means to allow one another to express ourselves without pushing our own beliefs and mindsets on another. It's all been about growth and ushering one another along on this journey.

I love these women. As they have truly surpassed being just friends, but, they're my sisters, they're family. They are who I go to when life does its own thing. They are who have wiped my tears, cheered me on, and offered shots in between. They've given me themselves with no questions asked and nothing required in return. And in that, their friendships further prove that the best things in life truly are free.

  

“The most called-upon prerequisite of a friend is an accessible ear.” -Maya Angelou

Knowing

She stood at her hotel window cloaked in a black waist length mink and a pair of black suede platform stilettos. She was feeling herself with freshly shaved legs and earlier in the day, visited her favorite nail salon. She'd bunned her hair into a lose pony-bun. She felt every bit of a woman because of how fresh she was - a mix between baby powder and peony. She stood at this hotel window that stood the height of the room, bare underneath, and waiting for his arrival. She stood, anticipating him burying his nose into her neck and inhaling deeply to take in every essence of her existence.

She stood at this window, with bare breasts pressed against the cold window's glass and let out the deepest of breathes of her life. Placing her left hand on the window, she stood and tossed herself into a daydream of their life forever. She imagined the ring being placed upon her finger as they continued to consume themselves into and onto one another. In the end, it'll all be worth it. 

But before she could imagine herself being a mother in this play world, she heard the bedroom doorknob turning. And slowly, she lifted her head off the window, grinning at her imprint as he walked over to her and as she watched him thru the window. Gently and breathtakingly, he pressed every bit of his six foot frame against her as he pressed his nose into her neck and rubbed against the same breasts that kissed the hotel window. No hello was needed nor was it necessary for her to turn around and greet him. 

He knew where he stood as did she. They were in this to win it. 

Traveling This Horizon

I sat on the horizon

amongst mermaids and sea urchins

lost sails and floating bottles

from last year's Independence Day

with skipping rocks that'd lost their way

and an emptiness all around

as I beckoned you to join me in the journey

for the search for forever,

for peace,

for something in life

that the city just can't provide.

At night I'd dance with the stars

and begged the Moon to let me see the world

as he does,

to see Italy, Dubai, and New York all at once-

to learn what it means

and what it feels like to lose myself

in what God's made.

But then in the morning,

with the rising of the sun

and setting of the great moon

as the waves settled and began to sway softly,

I found myself still on the horizon,

alone

realizing but no longer compromising

that there are moments in life

meant to be traveled with others

but then, there are those moments in life

meant to be traveled with ourselves.

may be LOVE.

There are no blinders that hinder her sight.
There are no walls caging her heart.
There are no shackles bounding her to then and its possibilities.
There are no memories to encompass her with guilt.

She has found something,
that may be LOVE.

He is easy and honest; intelligent and worthy.
He is sensual and sexual from toes curling and hands sliding
up, down, and around sheets to
arms grasping waists and fingers wrapping around one another
as they drift to sleep - together.
He is understanding and endearing
the way men are and boys don't know how to be.
He is the 15 minute conversations at 4am
easing her back to sleep
and the early morning good mornings
that make days wonderful.
He, to her, is right on time,
though he's been there all along.

She has found something,
that may be LOVE.

And with no expectations,
nor gripes,
she has reached a point of comfort
and anticipation,
a point where realism and dreams meet.
They have something that they're nurturing,
with no rush,
no date nor time - no deadline,
just emotions and feelings that are known,
and understood, 
that are respected and cradled carefully.

They have found something,

and it just may be LOVE.

Defining Moment

The feat was difficult
and emotionally raw;
it pulled plucked and pinched
at her heartstrings until tears formed
and attempted with their mightiest
bit of strength
to show themselves
while attempting to expose
a weakness that is unfounded in 
women like her.
She knew it was time
to put it on the table,
present it
and leave it there,
to allow it to form itself
into a being that she hoped (and prayed)
it was meant to become.
She knew it was time
to stop convincing herself
of what she had no proof of.
She knew it was time
to let what she allowed
to torture her thoughts
and invade her dreams
to come to a halt-
it was time,
to let him in
while destroying the fortresses
she'd created around herself.


And with a press of a button
a tightness in her chest
and tears pushing the shorelines
of her ducts
it had to be done
and was.


And in the end,
it was all worth it
and just want she'd always wanted.

No Good Samaritan

Shall you:
set fire,
not a drop of piss
to offer relief.
stomach empty,
curling and doubling over 
in sheer agonizing pain,
not a crumb from this plate
to ease your woes,
to moisten your insides,
or comfort your troubled spirit.
gasping for air
as your lungs kiss one another
seeking a piece of life
to avoid death's shrieking call-
to halt it's galloping hooves;
no, these lips shall not touch yours
to knock the dust off of this CPR.
insane in the medulla oblongata,
the chaise is out of commission
and the prescription pad,
is empty.


she,
in and full of love
gave life with her passion
and dedication in every waken
and sleeping moment.
she,
offered and gave
her heart that you took
and damn near sucked the life out of.
so no,
no good samaritan acts
or feats
on behalf of humanity
shall be exuded from this body.
she'll stand and watch you heave
and cry
just as you did her -
as she walks away
and doesn't dare look back.

Talking to Myself

we don't have this thing down pat yet, but damnit if we're not trying. amateurs working our best to be pros. but while we try to figure this game called life out, we're going to live life like everyday is our last and love til' the end...

The cards have not displayed perfect hands. Straight 21. A full house or every Ace in the deck. Yet you play and play and play.

The older I get, the more I become grateful and forever thankful for this life all because my God has been gracious enough to keep me here. And let me tell you something: because we are human beings, because warm blood sometimes flow thru cold bodies, does not give us the right nor does experience or skill give us the permission to decide or predict someone's life. And I say that to say this, 25 years ago, a 16 year old girl from the projects of Philadelphia delivered a baby girl, but was told to say goodbye because she had less than 24 hours to live - nearly twenty-five years ago. 

The baby girl was me.

No one knows yourself better or more than you, no matter how much others think they know, you're your best friend and dearest confidant next to the God you serve. Your plate is full and your struggles plenty, but somehow, you get thru these days and close your eyes at night knowing you were your best you, that, the you today is surely better than the you yesterday. A dreamer beyond what people may even know, we don't even want to take over the world, we just want to make a difference. We could care less about being rich, we want wealth, comfort, peace, and love.

Most people would have given up a long time ago. Your closet isn't necessarily filled with skeletons, but the emotions are plenty and some are tough, raw. But like its been said, you don't know a man (or woman) until you've walked a mile in their shoes. And a mile in your shoes is simply a mile full of eternal love.

I live for love. And nothing more. Nothing else. Love is why this blog even exists. Love of the English language. Love of the people in my life. Love of the art of writing. Self-love. Shared loved. Imagined love. Past loves. And new ones that haven't even been birthed yet. For me, love is indeed just that deep. I love love songs. Romance. Passion. Intimacy. The things that make your heart feel like it's skipped a beat and your toes cramp from curling so much, so hard. I, create scenarios in my mind of love. 

No, my life is not necessarily what or where I want it to be, but one thing for sure, and two for certain, it is where it's supposed to be. And for that, I'm grateful and forever indebited to my God for keeping me. I don't know where I'm headed, but I've spent enough time in my 25 years down to know that I'm headed up and no other place than that. I can say without a benefit of doubt, I truly love my life and I love, adore, and appreciate the people who share time, space, and energy with me in these days spent.

*****

Happy Birthday to My Bay-Bay

I claim him. He's mine. Forever more until the day my God allows us to cross paths again to mend my heart that's been broken since age 9. All I know of his death is that he died of a massive heart attack on the steps of a friend. The rest is history and to be quite frank, doesn't even matter. The family came to a consensus not to tell me about his death until after the service. They knew I'd loose my mind. Oddly enough, it wouldn't have mattered one way or another. But what about my heart? And mending it? Impossible feat.


I'd just seen him the night before his death. He kissed me goodnight. And when I woke up the next morning, a copy of Aladdin was laying on the bed. Yet another gift from Bay-Bay for his Nurl-Nurl.


Yea, that man, is all mine.


I don't write about him often because the tears flow with ease. And I don't talk about him. It's impossible for me to tell you just how much he meant and means to me without a snotty nose, red tear stricken eyes, and much heaving. 


February is a super hard month for me. February like holidays and family gatherings remind me that who I miss more than words or even these tears can explain, isn't here. Furthermore, it's our birthday month. He the 19th and I the 28th. The perfect Pisces pair.


At 7, he insisted on a birthday dinner at Red Lobster for me, with the family, for my first time. And I tell you, I was the happiest little girl watching the lobsters in the tank as he explained to me that those lobsters soon will be someones dinner. 


I pray that I make and have made him proud, because life has never been the same since he departed. My grandma yells at me to this day because I don't call her like I should. And I know I'm wrong, but he's not there. Someone else is there in my Bay-Bay's place. I should still hear his hearty, boisterous laugh in the background or the horrible cinematography from his Sci-Fi flicks. I remember spending summers and nearly every weekend with my grandparents riding around in his white van with the burgundy interior and blue U-Haul floor cover in the trunk. Uncomplicated and true, true love.


My ex use to yell when we argued that "No one will ever love you like me". No sir, no one will ever love me like my grandfather did. The only time I cried over him was he I knew I'd never walk into my grandmother's project home and see him stretched out in bed, or ever see his beret hats or white button up shirts stretched over his protruding belly. He, was love.


And the amount of tears and snot I've blown in his remembrance, I will and pray to the high heavens for another day with him. Just to tell him one more time how much I love him. I didn't know how to as a child, but I'm sure he died knowing that there was one little girl left behind, would grow up with a broken heart because he wasn't there, loved him more than what her childlike vocabulary could express.


This year makes 16 years. And there isn't a year that goes by that I don't acknowledge his birthday or day of death. But then there are the days between: Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday, rough days, good days - that I don't pray for the closure that now as an adult woman, I never received as a child girl. I know he's gone. And I know that he physically is not coming back. And I know, at least I feel as though he is OK. I saw him a dream a little over a year ago, first time in over 10 years I'd seen him in something other than pictures. And he sat wearing his blue beret hat and white buttonup shirt stretched tightly over his belly. I woke up sweating, walked into my living room, hoping and praying I'd see him there. But he wasn't.


My mother is getting married this summer and Lord knows, as joyous as the day will be, to look into the audience and not see his black face all dressed up glowing and full of love, it will be harder than what I can tell you. But we'll make it thru, because I know his spiritual presence will walk us down the aisle. 


Sunday is his birthday. I don't know how old he would've been. I just know I have to say happy birthday to the skies, thru my tears, and let him know that this now grown woman misses him just as much if not more than the girl child he left behind and that my love, to this day is unyielding and unmoving. 

I Love My Life, What About You?

the fact of the matter is we only get one life to live to either do it right, or not. so why not love what you have and make the very best of it? you know how they say there's no use in crying over spilled milk? well, there's no extra time to sulk over what's passed. leave then there and open your present.

and this is I guess life's basic logic at the end of the day, when it's all said and done. a lot of us, spend more time than we ought to wondering what would happen if we had done that differently. it doesn't matter anymore. get over it. let it go. move on. make your next trial run, the successful one.

I spend a lot of time thinking about life and what it has to offer and what's to come and what I want and hope and wish and pray for. There is no time to look back unless it's for reminiscings sake. The past is fun, it's where our futures use to lay. It's where our dreams were first cultivated and given the breath of life. But, the present is a present, so why negate it on what was and what use to be?

life as we know it right now at it's current moment and time may not be what we envisioned it to be. it may not contain the people we thought it would. but it's the life we've been given, so honestly, why not make the absolute best of it? why not give yourself permission to smile at yourself because you've been given the opportunity, the chance, the right to live life better than yesterday? yes, things can get worst. things can as we say in my hometown, shit just got real. it's true. but things can and do get better. life is not stagnant nor is it bad forever.

love your life because it's yours for the length of time you're on this Earth. don't let the past, what use to be, have that much power over you that you're not able to see the beauty, the glory in right now and what's to come.

Artwork

{ #GOODmusic } :: Brandy, "I Wanna Be Down"

#classic

{ #GOODmusic } :: Anthony Hamilton, "I'll Wait To Fall in Love"

my feelings exactly
to the tee,
could not have been expressed more perfectly.


I'd fallen in love with this song, it's lyrics and chorus in a matter of minutes and had not even heard the full track. This is just beautiful.

***

Anthony Hamilton

I'll Wait to Fall in Love

from newest album Back to Love

Best Hands of Your Life

Me and my Mommy :)

I thank God for having not blessed me with your presence yet. Because He knows that your mother-to-be is not ready for you, as she wants you to have nothing but the best. She, I, want you to be loved endlessly with no beginning nor end. I live for you even now though I have no clue when you are coming. I have no idea who you will resemble, or even, who your father will be. I pray, for you, and I, that he is strong, and that he is his very best.

Your mother now fights to no end to be her best person. She fights to mold herself into someone that today, she currently is not; to be someone that you will admire and love. Someone who when you set your eyes upon her, your own heart will warm, and eyes will shimmer because you'll know that you've been placed into the best hands of your life.

I have nothing to offer your right now. Nothing but positive words. My hands are clammy from fighting with myself so much that they've forgotten that they themselves have the ability to soften and be gentle. My heart weeps daily as she cries for freedom from her past. She wants herself to be relinquished from people, places, and things that she no longer belongs. So she writes, pours her heart out onto blank pages as she fills them with the honest foolishness of her young life and the sincerest dreams of what is to come. A dreamer is who your mother is. She dreams of life at it's best. Life at it's most gentle times. She dreams, wishes, hopes, and prays for a life for you that is noteworthy and God-fearing. A life that is well-documented and rejoiced over. A life that when you're my age, your battles nor pain will not surpass my own. For you, I desire nothing but the best. 

And while I am still learning this whole life thing, I look forward to awaiting and delivering your arrival. I've already decided your delivery will be a natural one, with no drugs. Spartan right? Even now, I feel the need to be aware of everything that pertains to you. I just know that I want absolutely nothing but the best for you and will see to it that this is what you're given - even now, when you have yet to announce your forthcoming or your arrival. 

Even now, you have been and will be placed into the best hands of your life.

School Girl Crushin'

Cheesing from ear to ear
there suddenly seem not to be
enough words
or verbal expressions
in the English language
or
the emotionally readable expressions
for you to understand
to get
to comprehend
this school girl crush thing
that I've been experiencing.


and it's not necessarily bad either.


Eyes flutter at the thought
stomach balls up at the sound
goosebumps conjoin at the touch
flashbacks and flashforwards
of what's to come
and what's passed
all take over me
because of you
and I existing
someway
somehow 
someday....


and it's not bad at all -
wouldn't change it for the world.




***

Mr. Blue Collar Blues

His hands were coarse, rough, and stubby; they were made up of hangnails, clogged cuticles, and dirt. She cringed at moments when he touched her. She cringed at the sight of them. She cringed and her teeth would grind at the thought of them being so close to her that she could see the veins pulsate underneath thick layers of skin. Thriller flick type shit. She was accustomed to soft, well manicured hands; "cleanliness is next to godliness" is what he use to tell her, and she held onto this thinking that became a belief.

She felt as though her dreams were being murdered by these dirty limbs of his. Her thoughts would drift off to old dates and times when cleaner hands, more gentle hands, less selfish hands ruled and rocked her world. Hands that nurtured her thoughts, wants, desires, and her dreams. Plush lips and white teeth, soft words and intelligent conversations. She couldn't wrap her mind around how she had gotten herself somewhere and with someone who didn't complement her.

A white collar girl. That's who she was attracted to; this is the type of woman she grew into. Business suits, ties, and briefcases. Low cuts with aviators. They wear their confidence in their eyes and in their walk. They worked hard in the boardroom and played harder in the bedroom. Monday through Friday men who mingled at after work happy hours and played at swanky hotel suites.

Still, for the life of her she couldn't figure out when, where, why or how she ended up here, with him, Mr. Blue Collar. Mister who works long days to try to make ends meet with a little bit of something left over to last until his next pay.

She'd awakened one morning, facing the ceiling, eyes quivering and mind racing, thinking. Love is all that was on her mind. Successful love. Rocket ship knock me off my feet sort of love.

All she wanted was a love that was true and enduring. A love that lifted her off the earth's stoney surface just as easily as the autumn wind shuffles falling leaves. She just didn't want these hands who would provide that desire, those wants. She wanted the hands she missed. The soft hands who worked effortlessly and selflessly. The hands she admired. She didn't want this with him. And she knew it. His hands, she thought, were just a glimpse into just how much dirt he'd done and would do if she continued on this road.


So she got up. And ran. And would have run forever if need be to get back to her Mr. White Collar. Mr. Clean with the well manicured, healthy, clean hands and the bedroom eyes that read her better than her favorite book. She ran away from Mr. Blue Collar Blues because his blues was just too much for her to bare. So before things got so deep that she couldn't escape, she ran. And never looked back.

Anthony Hamilton, "Best of Me"

Back To Love

Why I Stayed,

No one knows why I stayed but me. We reach a point in life and specifically in certain relationships where we've grown so comfortable with the bullshit that we wind up convincing ourselves that to start over defeats the purpose. So we stay. I did. I convinced myself, with his help of course, that I didn't have the patience or the time to meet and get to know another person and their habits, attitudes, likes, and dislikes. To learn someone new again. Who has that sort of time? So I stayed. "We not gettin' any younger T." So clearly, I was getting too old to seek and find and learn a new person too. I stayed through the cheating, lying, verbal abuse, and sheer laziness. I stayed through the excuses, schemes, and blaming everyone else for why you're where you are in life. I stayed. I stayed through the threats of if I can't have you nobody will, through the threats to knife up your wrists with our kitchen knives, stayed through blocking the door so I couldn't escape - to stay and wallow with him in his misery.


I stayed because I was the good girlfriend playing "good wife".


But eventually, that shit got old. Real old. And it started to stink and to wear me down. There's but so much encouragement that I could give when what I really wanted to say was "shut the fuck up and get up off your ass. no one owes you shit, not even a good fucking morning sunshine". I began to spend my days off at my mother's for a piece of peace of mind. I grew tired of my brain always working and working the majority of the time to keep him functioning.


A weary woman is not a happy woman no matter what she says. If she claims she's happy, she's fucking lying.


I was tired of redoing resumes and hearing the dreams of how to make these moves and build "our" legacy. Build a legacy when you don't have a leg to stand on. The irony was appalling. But my being so comfortable and being OK with it because it'll change, things'll get better was just as disgusting. As much as I was tired of working 16 hour long days at work to catch up on the late rent and past due bills, coming home to take the trash out, do the dishes, and straighten up the living room while he was stretched out in the bedroom, I'd convinced myself that this was as good as it gets. I stayed because I had already prepared myself that this was going to be my life.


Oh yes, I stayed.


I continued to make excuses and enable the behaviors. But, if I'd said or did what I really wanted to, my day and quite possibly, my week, or months to come would have been severely fucked up. My level of miserable would have been beyond 100.


I stayed so I wouldn't have to hear the bullshit. So I wouldn't have to be threatened with what I wasn't going to do and what he was going to do. The threats were just as empty as the promises but it took me a while to realize such.


I stayed, because while he didn't have a leg to stand on, I'd lost my original backbone and needed one rebuilt.


Don't get me wrong, there was love. Insurmountable amounts of love. But the shit was fucked up. I fell in love with who I thought he would grow into and he fell in love with who I was when we met. I fell in love with thinking I could mold him into who I wanted him to be versus who and what his reality was. It didn't take long for him to show me his real face, but I didn't believe what he showed me, so I stayed. And grew angry at him for my knowingly mistaking him to be someone he wasn't.


My mistake was taking my frustrations out on him for not being who I imagined him to be instead of admitting such and leaving well enough alone from the rip. Instead, I stayed thinking I could change this boy into the man I wanted.


And don't get me wrong, he put it down. On the regular. But I got it and other bitches got it too. Yet, my simple ass stayed thinking shit would change. And eventually it did. But, a cheetah doesn't change its spots like a zebra can't transpose its stripes. And change, well that bitch was a few days late and several dollars short.


Believe what you see when you see it. That, is the difference between now and later.


The love we shared was limitless. There was nothing we would not have done for one another - other than leave. We both knew we were both better apart than we were together, but we weren't strong enough for each other or ourselves to let it go.


But eventually, the weary woman wanted to be happy without the weary or the drama or the pain. She wanted to be with someone who she could genuinely love for them and not for her thoughts. She had to own up to the fact that lost trust and non-belief alone was more than enough of a reason of why she couldn't walk that well trodden road yet again.


I stayed because change was too scary. Because I misconstrued a lot of things for love when it wasn't about love, because sometimes, love just isn't enough of a reason to hang around. It's frightening to see the person you've shared your life with stand before you threatening to cut their wrists if they can't have you as if you're their property. There aren't enough words to explain the sheer fear of thinking you can't move on with your life because that person won't allow you to do so.


There are a lot of things that love is, but equally, there are many things that love is not.


I apologize for staying around longer than I know I should have. I apologize for not being the stronger one sooner to let it go so repair could have began earlier. But life is about learning and I pray that you've walked away with just as many lessons as I have without holding an embittered heart. Love is worth fighting for. But love is also worth letting go for individual repair versus combined destruction. We stayed thinking time really does and would heal all wounds, but not if you're not brave enough to stop patching up scars as if they don't exist.


To finally have let go is honestly one of the best decisions I've made to date. My individual happiness means the world to me and I honor it just as much as I honor the love we shared. But, the truth of the matter is that it was time. We'd taught all we could teach and bought to the table everything in our power, including the messiness. This was nothing more than a good ass chapter that had to come to an end.

Wrecking Brain

I can tell when a particular best friend of mine is up to something, just like she can tell without seeing me when and if I've been crying. So, when she called me the other day, asking a million plus one questions about a particular someone, I knew, with no proof, that either she was up to something, or, she knew something or some things that I didn't. And when I say asking a million plus one questions, this was like a police interrogation - but not as intimidating. And in between our laughs and my not being able to stay still, I knew what it was all about and where it was coming from. Without her saying so, I was given an outside view of what I've always kind of wanted to know.

And when she asked the question I've quietly asked and answered for myself, I cheerfully answered yes. If asked, the answer is and would be yes. For a long time, the answer has always been yes without a shadow of doubt.

Sitting on the phone with her, I wrecked my brain while trying to pick hers to no avail. And as much as I figured that I had it figured out, I just wasn't sure - and still am not.

She said to me, as if I didn't know, "you know sometimes we look and it's been sitting there right in front of us all along". I know just who she was talking about and what she was saying, but, I wanted to know why? And where was it all suddenly coming from is what I couldn't figure out. Were there truth to her questions? Had she heard it all from the horse's mouth and was just encoding it so I couldn't repeat it verbatim? Hopefully, this won't end in the world may never know like the age old question of "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?"

I hope, for my own sanity that I'll be able to get to the center of it all because by all means, it's been a long time and all sorts of emotions are bound up like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

If I took my own advice I wouldn't be wrecking my brain over my best friend's hidden messages or your sometimes cloudy disposition. If I took my own advice, I'd be at the center of the tootsie roll pop already. But clearly I'm not.

It's been said that good things come to those who wait. And I hope, this, is a classic example of such. I don't expect a fairy tale ending because in the world we live and function in, fairy tales don't exist. But the sheer feeling of a love so transparent that it becomes contagious will do. 

Anthony Hamilton Do You Feel Me

American Gangster soundtrack

Father Dearest,

The sarcasm runs deeper than the dislike. But so does the pain when I look back on life and realize all the times when I really needed your presence to be known, not just imagined. As women, we learn how not to "need" men. But as girls, you're life's best kept secret. Lucky me, the secret was a joke that I learned to heckle. 


There's a lot about me you do know because according to you, you made sure that you kept tabs on me as a child. You knew I was a wiz in school. That I enjoyed reading chapter books versus playing with the neighborhood kids. You knew I was well-mannered and polite. But all of these things were a given considering who my mother is. As you already know, Doreen plays no games.


But there's a lot that you don't know. And a lot that you unfortunately will not be privy to. This isn't about holding grudges or harboring ill feelings. It's about learning who to trust and who not to. And in this life, we're taught early not to trust those who we do not know. Trust like respect is earned. The fact of the matter is that you and I, we don't know each other.


As I push into 25 and as my brothers have said to me, "knocking on 30's door", I've been taking a lot of time re-evaluating relationships, including what little of one we have.


You remind me of the childhood crush who comes around every so often to see if we're still good. You come around every few years, maybe months to check-in. And not to my surprise or dismay, you always disappear. When you are around, things begin nicely. Reasonable conversations that aren't forced, but then, we delve into you being a shitty example of a father and your sob ass stories of the decisions you made as a child that continued into your adult life. And of course, how grateful and blessed you that the mother's of your children raised well-rounded, no shit taking, intelligent children who can hold their own. The little angel on my shoulder listens coyly and nods in understanding on behalf of humanity. But then, the little red devil bitch on the other shoulder could give a rats ass how you've spent millions on insurmountable amounts of drugs and coochie. Or about all of the great cities you've visited. And especially doesn't give a fuck about you wanting to get all of your children together under one roof and spend a day together as a family because you know that you can't make up for past times. Who-fucking-cares is what she thinks as she taps her pitchfork.


I respectfully get it. I know shit happens. It's a part of life. It's how we learn how to handle situations and people. But when that shit happens repeatedly, you are officially at fault. Case closed. And pity no longer lives here anymore. I was sympathetic at 15 when I knocked on my grandmother's door because someone told me you were there, and you had no fucking clue whose eyes you were staring into. Your eyes. Your eyebrows. The texture of your hair - all mine. How could you not recognize a face that resembles yours to the tee - just that of a pretty girl versus a battered man? I was sympathetic at 18 when you made promises of diamond earrings that instead of gifting, you either smoked or snorted because your arms have no signs of tract marks. I was even sympathetic when you apologized and was invited to be present to see me off for my senior prom and a guaranteed ticket to my high school graduation. No call. No show.


You consciously stayed out of my life as a child because of your severity of fucked up. I get that. And I respect that. I appreciate that more than what you may believe. I sincerely thank you for not bringing that bullshit into my childhood to further scar me. But, I remember seeing you at 2 in Adidas track pants as you gave me your half eaten bag of sunflower seeds; you'd came to the house to speak with my mother. I remember seeing you at 8 as I was riding with my cousin, on our way to a fair. You stopped the car because you recognized my cousin and saw that I was in the back seat. Your head was shaved bald. We talked a bit, I was shy, we said bye, and parted ways. The next time I saw you, I was 10, it was the summer time, I was on the steps with my Grandma and her best friend. You were walking by with your girlfriend at the time, who would become my sister's mother. You looked at me, and never uttered a sound. Never even slowed your pace to take a longer glimpse at me. I sat, and watched your every step. I remember you had on jean shorts and a baby blue short sleeved polo shirt. If I knew then what I know now, I would've wished for the ground below you to open up and swallow your simple ass. The next time I saw you, I was 15, when I knocked on your mother's door, but you didn't even recognize me.


At 24 and weeks away from 25, my focus is no longer on building a relationship with a man that I as the product of you, have tried to build and create some sort of closeness with for the past 10 years off-and-on. I still need to finish my bachelors. Travel a bit. Find a new apartment. Be a better sister, daughter, granddaughter, friend. Be a better me so I can be an excellent wife and mother. There really isn't much room for your bullshit anymore.


How can I expect you to be a "father-in-law" when you don't know the daughter and wouldn't be able to educate him on me? How can I expect you to be a "grandfather" when even now, with two growing grandsons from your eldest son, you're not even a constant presence in their lives? I've spent my life asking these questions. And now as a grown, adult woman, these are serious ass questions that require equally serious ass responses. Not excuses. Not stories of what you dream to become reality. No, just hard core truth. I'd fair better if you could say "I don't know if I could ever be these things" versus feeding my precious ears with bullshit of what you want and hope to happen.


I'm a big girl who's grown up in an even bigger city. Raised to be feisty and to shoot from the hip from an equally feisty and driven mother, I've faired off better than a lot of women my age.


I can't say I don't need a father, because all children need a father. But that figure may not necessarily be whose DNA you're made of. 


You've missed out on a lot and are missing out on even more. 


As human beings, we don't stop growing once we learn to stand and walk, talk, count, and recite our ABCs. Yes, those are momentous events, but, they don't stop there. We grow and obtain jobs that lead to careers and success that deserve to be celebrated. We grow and lead lives that may not necessarily be ideal, but, to conquer struggles and downfalls too deserve to be celebrated. We become parents and wedded partners. Because you were never around, my father figures have been replaced several times in my life. At 6, my favorite uncle was locked up on the same day my great-grandfather died. My grandfather, who is my favorite man dead or alive, died when I was 9. And the man I grew up calling Daddy, I learned to love and despise. Women have primarily been my comfort in this life. And men, have come a dime a dozen. Including you.


I am grateful for your existence because otherwise I wouldn't be here. But that's where it begins and ends. I have no hatred in my heart, but if I did, you'd have the top slot. Whether or not we've reached our breaking point, I don't know. But if we have, I know that both as child and woman, I've done more than my share. And I pray, should God grant me another go around in lifetimes to come, that I have learned all of the lessons to learn from you and this experience so that I may not experience this ever again. Same prayer for you as well because I couldn't imagine being a parent and knowing that my presence in the lives of my children is not deemed a present.

A Challenge Disguised In Self-Love

the easiest thing in this life is holding onto what we know. the hardest thing is letting that thing or person go. it takes nothing to revert to feelings felt before, stating words repeated 50 million times before, or even, crying old tears. but to do what's never been done before, and sticking to it, is our greatest individual challenges. it, is the greatest show of self-love that we can give ourselves.


there's nothing easier in this life than to go back. but equally, there's nothing more rewarding than giving yourself permission to let go and free yourself of whatever it is that has a hold of you.


give it a try. and see just how much your life changes - for the best and better.


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Tickled with Anticipation

I spent some time not long ago looking at engagement rings, wedding gowns, honeymoon spots, and floral arrangements. Trying to put a face to the man I'll spend forever with and the kids we'll make and raise and love. Delving into careers that I would love to wake up to partake in daily. Imagining the home I'll help create. Spent some time attempting to look into the future and tried to figure out life now and how it'll affect life later. Consciously attempting to coordinate steps so that they only positively affect what's to come. Of course, the end result left me empty handed, but, the attempt was made.

I've always said that we get from life what we put into it. And that's the honest to God truth. Should you contribute nothing to this one life of yours, your harvest will return to you ill fruits and parch land. But, should you sow your land with grace and dedication, your harvest then will return to you the best things of this life. But not necessarily in a fashion or span of time that you may see fit.

I can tell you with the straightest face possible, I have no clue what life has in store. I don't know what to expect come next week or six months from now, let alone a year or more from now. Regardless of how much I "plan", life does it's own thing; I'm just a participant in its show, a pawn in its game, a squirrel trying to get a nut - to say the least.


I just want the best out of this life and I hope the same applies to you and those in your immediate circle. But in wanting the best out of this life, we have to make some pretty tough decisions, burn some bridges, tear out some chapters, cry plenty tears, and do some back turning. And we have to do all of this hoping on a wish and a prayer that the end result is a life that when we sit back and reflect, we can confidently and proudly say that we are happy and satisfied with the decisions made.


Though this may sound like some internal battle of good versus evil quipped with the past fighting the future, it's not. It's a woman playing with her own thoughts and hoping, wishing, and praying that her life from here on out is full of nothing but joyous surprises because after all, she is truly tickled with anticipation and can't wait to see what is on its way to her.

Happy New Year from GirllNexxDoor

speaking from first hand experience, 2011 was downright cruel. but i made it out alive, laughing, smiling, and happy. it ended in a way that juxtaposed perfectly against the trials i endured during and throughout the year. so at the end of the day, not much and nothing else mattered.


there are no new year resolutions, we're just continuing on the path to conquer and achieve, to successfully complete goals that have already been put into motion. but most importantly, we're not looking back. and i hope you aren't either. there's nothing there but memories, some good and some horrid. there are no repeats, you can't go back there and for some of us, me included, we don't want to go back. 


so while some of us are still in our 2011 closing outfits, some in pajamas, some in nothing at all, and some, quite possibly wearing the contents of your belly from indulging a tad bit much in the night's celebratory alcoholic beverages, lets make 2012 memorable. make it worth while. make it what we want and what we dream.


i wish you and yours nothing but wealth, success, peace, and insurmountable amounts of blessings. you deserve to be here, because otherwise, you wouldn't be.

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