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?
What is the point of having good vision when life isn’t clear as day? Judgment. Isolation. Pure evil and Hell! That’s what I’ve seen.
Obsessing Him, reviewing the actions of the petty woman who birthed me, and overcoming my feelings of how I allowed myself to become a complete piece of shit. Your God created me for some completely ignorant reason. What is the lesson here? What is my purpose? Why me? I have, who I am, as a person completely figured out. I don’t need to talk to these people or that person. What is that really doing for me? So I’m talking. Okay, BIG FRICKIN DEAL! But it doesn’t stop me from feeling how I feel. It doesn’t take away what has happened. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to do what I have always felt to be right!
A disease is what The People label it. It’s not okay to feel like that. It’s not normal. Did you ever consider that it is normal for me? Think about it. I’ve been depressed since my teenage years. My first attempt at suicide was when I was thirteen. I overdosed on over-the-counter medication. Yes, cheap medication that you can buy at your local pharmacy. I was even more awkward then. Someone who kept to self and minded my own business. Sure, I had friends but I never talked about it. I tried to suck it up. I smiled and laughed at jokes. Real shit happened. But I still cried every day. I think that I just didn’t want to cry any more. Little luck did that do me! So one day, I raided the medicine cabinet and four days later I wake up in Yale with a pumped stomach and a heavy chest. Of course, I was just a beginner then. It was easy to fool people when they had no clue of who I really was. Lies, are what you suggest. But the doctors are the ones who concluded that my body just overreacted on itself. Woo hoo, I was in the clear to go for it again!
Now we are at many failed attempts. And I still have no sense of purpose. I don’t get the point or memo. Why am I still here? Why are people so quick to judge? Why can’t people have good intentions? You know, do onto others as you would do onto them. Why am I getting out of the blue phone calls instead of the friendly home visits? A real apology. Why do people get jealous and insecure? Why are guys so thirsty to the point that they have to force control upon women? And when men don’t get their way, they are quick to garnish your name all to save face? Why does everyone feel the need to be in control of every single thing? Look at who you idiots elected as your fucking president! This is the dumbest fucking country in all of the world!
How did this become normal to us? How did we allow ourselves to think that the world we live in is okay? It has it’s up and it’s downs but there are far more downs than there are ups and I am disgraced. If our ancestors saw us now, shaking my damn head. I want to use my powers for good. I want to believe we can make it a better place. As of now, I must start with me. Is that Selfish? There are just some things that I’m not okay with anymore. Therefore, certain things and people will be terminated until further notice. I’m doing what the fuck I want. I’m being myself for me. Because I know that overall I won’t be for you. Not that I really would want to.
Fighting depression, trying not to commit suicide in oncoming traffic, and holding back screams from the pain of cramps and an upcoming menstrual cycle… Life has been tough this past week. With following lame job leads, and attending the stupid monthly visit to the Man. I don’t know much worse my life could get. People thinking that I’m crazy, I decided to have a little movie marathon. Deep Cover, King of New York, Dog Day Afternoon, Scarface, Communion, and Beetlejuice. All powerful movies, with very convincing men in very insignificant situations. Especially in Communion. Why haven’t the aliens come for me yet? Bastards!
The plus side, I did meet someone new. And of course, I think he’s great. He made me laugh, which seems to be a hard thing to do these days. But with God’s awesome planning of life, there would be an issue. He was sent to me, only to leave me! Thanks to the European corruption of the United States, he’s being sent away. I promise to hold him down, but I fear my lifestyle will continue to drain me further into the gutter. Could I really keep him interested while he’s away? He says there’s no one else, but with my experiences with guys; statements that form from the mouth are usually false! And if it is true, can I narrow myself down to him? Situations like this makes my mind want to broaden my horizons and explore more options. But my heart, wants to settle. Hearts are stupid and so are the people that use them! Maybe that’s why people get stabbed in them often?
Because my heart has been stabbed, stomped, and kicked around so many times, I decided to add another story called Let Them Eat Cake. Based on true events, of course. There’s a little clip of one of my favorite chick flicks, Marie Antoinette. The way they lurk at each other, makes me think of a happier time. When things were good way back when. When I was able to smile and not have a single care in the world. Writing has been my way down the road to recovery. I hope someone accepts and appreciates it, like I do. Because I don’t know what else I can do to occupy the conflict between my heart and mind…
Been trying to let go of my past.
Hand my heart to God.
These devils won’t free me from the miserable Hell that I’m living.
After recent events in my life, I decided it was time to tell another tale of Dyana. She’s not finished, but she may shock the shit out of you. The way I’ve been carrying my notebook and pen, questioning and foreseeing the future, I still don’t understand why I’m not used to this shit yet. Made other miscellaneous updates as well. Browse around.
Living life is hard at all times. Even more when it comes unexpected. I’m glad I have this as an outlet to control my chaos. People tend to forget that “What happens in the dark, often comes to the light.“