CARE n. A feeling of concern, anxiety, or worry; guardianship or custody.
v. To show interest or regard.
If you “CARE” about me, why do you criticize me? Ridicule me? Degrade me? Disrespect me?
RESPECT v. To show consideration or esteem for; to relate to.
n. Courtesy or considerate treatment. Continue reading “Who’s Gonna Save My Soul Now?”
I’m about to drive in the ocean.
I’ma try to swim from something bigger than me.
Kick off my shoes. And swim good.
Then I awoke up. I had another dream or premonition. Only this time, I was talking to HIM & HER! We spoke numerous times over the phone. We spoke pleasantly. We spoke with hurt and truth. But we all spoke?! What does this all mean? I can’t remember the entire conversation, but I remember there actually being a conversation. As I woke, I laid there. Not mad, not sad. Confused. Is this really going to happen? Is any of my dreams, going to happen? Why does this man and woman, that I’ve never met seem to interfere with my life? As if, I don’t already have complications already happening… Why can’t I get him from off my mental? Why do I love him, knowing that he’s expressing his feelings to her? JUST WHY? Why me? Why this? Why couldn’t I have stopped him from walking into my life 5 years ago, and prevent this pain? Now I have to deal with it and heartache. I have to deal with constant reminders on a daily basis. I can’t turn on the radio and not let a song remind me about the situation. I hate leaving the house, because of my fear of running into him. I never want to be in a particular part of Connecticut, because I don’t want to chance it, facing my fears. Why me? Why these dreams? Why am I so calm about this? Why do I feel like crying? Why do I want to harm myself? Why do I feel so much more alone? Why do feel that the road is coming to an end? Can I be saved?
Not trying to be funny, sounding like LL Cool J, but it is true. I need love. Why is there so much fake love and real hate out there in the world? Why can’t motherfuckers be honest and real with you? You meet a person and they seem all genuine to your face. But the moment you turn your back, they’re fake as fuck! And I hate that technology gets involved in this fuckery. Texting is the most ignorant way of communicating. Never say what they mean, mean what they say, or use dumbass emojis. I will never know how a smiley face implies as direct conversation or of how you’re truly feeling. Why did it become so complicated for us to have a decent conversation today? When did it become cool to be a habitual liar? A manipulator? A sociopath? This is cool?! This is an abomination, and I want no parts of it. I want for every fuck nigga and punk ass bitch to leave me alone! I want every man to stop begging for my pussy, if you think you’re only going to get one good use of it. Believe me, it’s had EVERY dumb ass coming back, STUCK ON STUPID AS FUCK! Not that I’m broadcasting or anything. But WHAT IN THE FUCK?! There are things that I want and need and with the way the world is working, none of you are right for me. Even as a friend, I want no parts in you. I don’t need to be robbed again, of things that I’ve worked too hard for. I don’t need another knife placed in my heart. Don’t you understand, I’m already a fragile person?! Why make someone hate themselves for being themselves? Don’t kiss me, smile in my face, say & do things to make me think you want to be around, when we both know you don’t. See, my issue is that people think I don’t see the signs and road blocks. I’ve seen them loud and clear and a gazillion times from the bitch or nigga before you. Trust, I am very well caught up! And I have learned my lessons. I’m growing from those lessons. I may still have to shed tears, but these are my tears of the pain and sorrow. And don’t take them as a sign of weakness. Because no, I’m not weak! I’m still a fighter! But I’m fighting in my own way. I’m gaining my old strength back and some new strengths in my process. No one knows my internal exterior, simply because no one has ever been interested. Well one day, someone will be interested. They’re going to want to know all of the whos, whats, whys, whens, wheres, and hows… And hopefully, I will be willing to give them all of those answers. Hopefully, they’ll want me to be an open book, and read between the lines. I hope that they’ll allow me to cry, and not judge a single tear that falls down my cheek. I hope they’ll like every wrinkle in my frown, or how rosy my cheeks get when I crack a smile. Understand that we all have flaws, and that we aren’t perfect, and that we all have a past, but thinks I’m wonderful overall. I want there to be love. Let our souls connect. Our eyes to meet. And our minds to intellect. I want to believe it’s out there. But when all you’ve ever seen is hurt, rage, lies, pain, anger, deception, distraught, and disasters… Can I still believe it’s amongst me?! Is love a real thing? Or is it just another way to make a dollar?