So, as it always goes, I stole a book to read from someone (in this case my sister). And can I just say that this is one of the most honest books I’ve ever read (been stumbling upon a lot of those lately… or I guess you could call it stealing them from others if we’re being technical). Anyway, a chapter on parenthood was included in the book, Simple Truths, that caused me to revisit feelings and thoughts that I genuinely have tried to avoid the past couple of months. Continue reading “Parenthood | July 10, 2018”
“Where’s my shirt?”
Because you no longer desire to leave your body bare next to one who is not keen enough to notice that one birthmark you have right next to your spine. You’ve become so willing to strip off clothing that you have forgotten what it feels like to let someone see past your sexuality and into your being. You convince yourself that this has to do with freedom or feminism or whatever bullshit excuse, but yet you wake up in the morning on a bed that’s not yours. And the first thing out of your mouth is a clear cry for something that makes more sense. You’re ready to go, your mind is cleared up now. After all, you did just both fulfill your superficial desires. There’s no space left in that dark room for your spirit, you’d best keep that to yourself. And when your feet make it to the door, you turn around to make sure you still have a bit of worthiness left over. Still laying in bed, he opens his eyes, but doesn’t even bother to look at you long enough to say goodbye. Little does he know he’s never going to see you again. You’ve taught him bad habits and you’ve learned to keep coming back just to come – back to emptiness. No more. Of all things great about you, how you please a man is of the least value. You enter the Uber and say your morning greetings, but through his rear-view mirror he can see your partially rubbed off makeup from the night before. That’s enough conversation for the day. What you really need is a shower. But that won’t wash away the bodies that have laid on top of you and touched you though your memory recollects very little of any of those experiences. But you still scrub and scrub and exfoliate till you’ve listened to almost a quarter of an album through your tears. Your heart tells you this isn’t it. You deserve better. And for once ever, you listen to it.
Was watching this TED talk yesterday that spoke on how to feel alive. The speaker said that the only way to truly feel alive is by being honest (not only with ourselves but with those around us as well). He explained that we often look to entertainment to make us feel “alive” and to give us a sense of “living”. Instead of seeking for that feeling in other things, we can easily find it within ourselves. When we lie, we create a false reality and a false identity. Our lies hinder us from truly being ourselves as we become accustomed to living the “lie” that we have created. Day by day we continue to allow the lie to cloud our “aliveness” as we cannot truly be alive until we are honest with ourselves. When we become honest with ourselves and those around us, then we no longer have to experience the confusion that comes with separating reality from a lie.
So when some person quoted “The truth shall set you free”, they actually had something going.
“What good is his love if she don’t love herself?”
Damn. That’s deep. If she doesn’t ever learn how to love herself, how is she ever gonna allow him to love her? See, her selfishness, allows her to grow. It allows her to carefully learn of every nip and tuck in her character, brain and body. She will no longer feel the need to be reminded of who she is. She won’t be defined by having a man, by having him say “yes” or “no” to all her decisions. She won’t need someone to tell her “good morning beautiful” cause guess what, the sun greets her joyfully every morning. She will be fully comfortable with herself and her entire being. She’ll hug herself when getting ready and dance and sing out the top of her lungs in the shower. She’ll travel, ALONE, because she’s wants to explore. And she’ll be totally comfortable being alone, she probably won’t even notice.
And eventually, when she does decide she’s ready to get a man, her man won’t make decisions for her, but with her.
For some reason I always related self love to being selfish. Not sure if my environment conditioned me to believe so, or what is was, but I found myself fearful of loving myself “too much”. Something in me believed that if I cared about me too much, I would not care about others. Such an attitude would make me likely to be narcissistic and I’d potentially end up not giving a shit about anyone…ever. It was either that or I would become too vain and conceited. No one would be given a chance to know me if I loved me. Continue reading “Self Love | August 27, 2017”
A lot of people glance at me twice when I tell them I’m not going back to school next semester. Well, originally that is how it began anyway. With the subtle lies of “oh I may be going back” to “I’m just taking a semester off” to my absolute favorite one: “I’m not sure yet.” I roll my head back and chuckle uncontrollably at such bullshit. Absolute rubbish.
I refuse to go back to that mental hole encompassed with overly revisited dreams and lonely lecture halls. I cannot emotionally allow myself to enroll back into a living hell—a tactically induced sadness that loved to announce itself abruptly and suck the droplets of my happiness and condense them into 9,000 negative thoughts. Opening my eyes daily to memorizing scientific names of medications I would never prescribe may have just been the insanity which Einstein spoke of. That forsaken melancholic state of numbness could no longer be tolerable.
I gave in to self.
And that, that is why “I’m dropping out of school.” Continue reading “Live Free | July 13, 2017”
Between the daily rituals of observation that never seem to override our persistent thoughts, exists our undeniable desire to breathe more than just oxygen.
We are suffocating under a spell of routine, yet we’re still not blue enough to realize that the hopelessness inhibiting us from awakening is not just
Conditions curable with just enough encapsulated tablets just to lead us back down the time capsule to the day we failed to recognize anything further than “Me, me, me.” Continue reading “Code Blue.| June 8,2017”