|—||No seriously, pros and cons…|
I first started writing about tyrants… hate them. Then it was long lost friends… until I realized they don’t have to be so far away, really, if I reach a little. I thought I’d try my hand at boyfriend issues…but international fights can be difficult to triangulate and then of course the guilt seeped in.
So I turned off the TV. And cried a lot. Put on some music, and waited for a sign. I danced a little, got tired a lot. Tweeted at Mr. Conley, and brushed my teeth.
Faith. This blog ended up being about faith. Faith while tyrants sling demeaning comments (they actually believe they can rule over you). Faith, eventhough he promised to be there (and he literally never is). Faith, because wars don’t last forever, and because all of our tomorrows take root in today.
I am about faith, and all the little things I do on a night like this… are the things that keep me going, bring me back to being me. Faith included.
The past two nights I’ve been in and out of sleep and dream taken by thoughts of who, outside of family, I hold closest to my heart. And most of the people on my list have no idea, or have no idea anymore. I don’t know if they’d want to know but, I love you. I’ve always loved you.
|—||Anthony’s nana. Love Only.|
So then I left everything I knew and got a job and made some money. I spent all that money on things that were supposed to be important; an apartment, occupational workshops to further my professional worth, clothes without tears in them, gifts, groceries, and half-decent shampoo. And whaddya know, I’m still not happy.
The world is full of ‘NO.’ Only it’s said more like, “I’m sorry miss, but no.” Only I hear it more like, “FUCK NO! Hahaha, you suck.” What am I gonna do? Stay inside? I have been. (Man, the allergies are twice as bad in here, I swear.) Going outside, it’s a risk sometimes. For me, it’s a risk. People say no, people jump to conclusions, people look at me like, “What the hell is that? And who does she think she is?” And I break right down. I’ve not yet mastered the art of brushing it off and I can’t deal with pressure of being again who I once was; at one point in time I could’ve told skepticals exactly who I was and what I meant to do and won their hearts all in the same conversation. But I can’t do that anymore, and getting the public’s benefit of the doubt is not an option when your hair is purple and your boots and nose have matching holes. Who am I? I don’t know what to tell you, because some days I’m as stumped as you are, you- contingency of overdressed mall goers who peaked six years ago and need to judge me.
I’ve been on the verge of an answer though. A return? No. A vengeance? Nah. A realization. A merger.
Tonight I put the music on and started to feel it… then I thought about my body and what’s wrong with it and what I’d be embarrassed about in a dance class and how I could never go, I will never go back! So I turned the lights off. And then I was me.
Baby steps. One cannot be the ultimate them in a single Wednesday evening. Hungry? I’m going to eat. Tired? I’m going to take a rest. Because although I still have SO far to go, I’m unhappy acting like someone I’m not, and I won’t get anywhere chewing apart who I am. I just am. Me. All my personalities are working on it. Until then, “NO” just stands for ‘Not Over.’