spUR of tHe mOMEnts: November 2009

I'm just pissed...

At you, at me, at God, at them, at her. Don't even know her but she's pissing me off.
How about you move, so I can move, and God can do him.
How about you shut the hell up, acting like you so damn cool, with your ducks all lined up.
PLEASE... we all know you ain't got crap together and every night you wonder how u gonna make it the next day. Pretending will bring you no peace.
How about you stop pretending that you care, about anything, even me. I don't care about you... wait let me stop pretending cause then I'll be acting just like you. And what happiness did that bring to your life...
How about you stop trying to be so perfect. Stop STOP STOP!!! All of you... pretenders... pretending, to act like everything is okay... cause it's NOT!
How nice is it that you can just block me... tell me we close... and leave me... F^%# U!!!! I don't need you... I don't love you anymore... who the hell cares about you...

me. i do. that's why I'm straight angry. that's why I can't be with a man. that's why I'm so messed up. that's why I don't understand. that's why I hate you because you broke me.

How about, I'm mad at me... because I began to feel like no one loves me... my broken pieces are everywhere for them to see. no one wants pieces.

I yell at me, to stop and listen, to be still and wait on the only one who can glue me back together. I feel like I'm fading... my strength, gone.
Goals and dreams, vanishing.

you there, what will you say. man... if u need an ear, i'm here for you. what will you say to me afterward... what has already been said, what I would say. "Have faith, trust in God, know he is able. You have to be patient." Don't you get tired of saying it to be nice. I do... tell me the truth or tell me nothing.

How about this... I'm just angry and instead of letting it eat me up, I'm writing it down. By tomorrow, I will have moved on, as God carries me through this rough time. I still might feel like a failure but I'll succeed one day... until then.

iPray

Growing up, I've always felt left behind. I know it began when my father left me and it continued to spiral. In my group of friends through out the years I was always the last one: last one to leave, last one to hear whatever news was going around, the last one to get the joke, last one to get those hot new shoes that by the time I got them were not hot anymore, and so on and so forth. My mom told me stories of how I use to call at the kids from the window, telling them to come play, don't leave. Sad rite...

Well now I'm older, and I still feel some what the same. Now I wonder if it's something that I am continuing as a pattern or if that just what it is. I have friends... but I still feel left behind at times. With my relationships, I never gave the chance to be left. If I know its not gonna work, I cut it off first. I don't know if my feelings of being left out have anything to do with my personality (do people now wanna talk to me) or distance. I'm just too far to make any connections. I'm moving closer to where most of my friends live. I guess well see about that.

Growing up... hummm I don't remember much from my younger days. Not much about tv shows, or family gathers, cool conversations with my mom, times my dad was around: all of that a BLUR. I do remember wrestling.

Happy times sitting on my dad's back watching it. I do remember my house in Hyattsville.. playing with an egg as my baby as oppose to the doll babies I had. As my mother yells at me for wasting her tissues. I made the babies bed out of the the oh so soft tissues in the shoe box. I loved to care for the egg, talk to it, sing to it, and make sure it was happy. But with an egg you can put it back in the fridge and go on about your business.

Today, I love children. I am always hanging out with my nieces or nephews when I get the chance. Give respect and get it back. Every weekend, my niece comes to visit and play with the puppies. We read (a battle at first but now she'll bring her book), watch movies, go to the dog park, play, and go to church. For the weekend I play mom, but sunday she goes home. Just like the egg. I definitely want my own egg that I don't have to put back in the fridge or send home. I laugh when she come over because I forget that right around 8 am or 9 am she is going to be hungry. I can go hours with out food but since I'm not trained yet in the art of a child's schedule it's so strange, but we make it work, as she tells me, I don't like the way you cook your eggs. Another problem my kids wont have because they will know nothing else. :)

Growing up, I wanted people to keep me around. You know that whole thing with my Dad leaving... developed abandonment issues. I did whatever I need to do to fit in. I didn't have real friends until I hit college. That's when I found out if the people I called friend in high school and before, really cared about me, or what I could do and/or get. Those individuals allowed me to be the goofy, geeky, not so cool girl that I was. Like I said before, I was a late bloom and it showed and I didn't care around them. Everyone else, it was all a show in an effort not to be left behind.

Nowadays, I know it still exist. I get the urge to do something to please everyone so they'll like me, and wanna talk to me. Include me in there life, while I don't so much include them in mine. Sometimes I would bring people in to my world with even caring because they never really saw me, they saw my show. The act. I pull the act with people, wait correction, men that I meet for the first time. Definitely guarded. It has come somewhat down a few times, but recently it was gone... but that was short lived because being the real me all the time, I realize, is not for everyone. Does that mean I'm fake around you, NO NO NO! I don't know that. I didn't do that before. The difference now, I wont do anything to please you. If I feel like being nice, then that's just it. But I'm not giving hand outs. To painful in the end.

Growing up, I was spoiled. Still am but not the way I use to be. I got any thing I wanted, from my dad. My mother... was a different story.