I Wish You Love

People are going to believe what they want to believe. No amount of common sense or conversation will change that. I didn't speak my peace, he wouldn't let me, but I tried to and that's what matters.

8 years is a long time to be in a relationship with someone you're NOT in a relationship with. I'm 200 lbs lighter today than I was yesterday. It hurts like a motherfucker, but our paths are no longer leading in the same direction, and we have to do what's right for us; separately. I really want nothing but the best for him. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

I'm not mad. He wants to believe I am; he kept saying so last night, but I'm not. I'm just terribly sad about the way it ended. About the situation as a whole. It's very hard to let him go.

I have never loved anyone as much as I've loved him. I thought I might have, but I've realized over the past year I haven't. I've tried to, but I haven't.

We're just two different people.

After all of this he still wanted to marry me. This is what scares me about marriage. People grow apart. People change over the years. How am I suppose to commit to someone who might not be their in 5 years? How can I try and make a life with a person who might grow into another person all together.

*Sigh* It's maddening.

The Orange

Today as I watched a pot of water boil I decided to eat the very last piece of fruit in my fruit bowl: an orange. I leaned against the counter taking my time as I peeled the orange, which is unusual for me. As I began to pry the orange open with my thumbs I encountered the gruesome scene that was the inside of the orange; it was black and grey, like something had taken up residence inside it and died shortly after.

I threw the orange on the counter out of surprise. I then picked the orange back up for a second look. It was the same as before. I threw the orange in the trash along with the peels. I washed my hands twice... the obsessive compulsive side of me taking over. by the time I finished, the water had begun to boil.

That orange was a perfect representation of how I often feel about life. No matter how much effort and care you put into something, in the end you're rewarded with the pleasure of knowing someone else got to enjoy it first, or worse, more. So yeah... I'm pretty depressing.

But when I told a friend of mine the story he asked me, "What are you going to do about it?"

What am I going to do about it...?

I've been trying to answer that question for years now.

In Bloom

You got me.

You got me,

Down in that hole.

Deep and dank; dark.

You got me.

And you covered me, in dirt and silt.

Until I grew, and emerged.

And I bloomed, I was open.

You got me open.

And the sun and rain fell down on me.

And still you got me.

You got me.

The Adventures of Bree: Bumping Into An Ex-Boyfriend

Well, it was bound to happen. I walk the streets of Queens as if I'll never see my Ex-boyfriend who happens to lives 2 blocks away from me. Surprisingly in the nine months since the breakup, I've only seen him  once: I stopped at a Family Dollar to return something before going on a jog and while in line jamming to some tunes (yeah man) in my workout clothes someone pats my shoulder. I turn and it was him. We exchanged pleasantries. I thought he would be on his way but he waited until I did my transaction and we talked for another 30 seconds and then we did actually go on our ways. It was civil.

Last night... not so much.

It was a live comedy awards show at the restaurant I used to work at. I was told to come dressed to the nine, so I wore a bridesmaid dress and sandals. I put on enough makeup for two (I was going to be on stage late that night for a guest appearance. I had no words to say so... I thought I'd do the talking with my eyes lol). I went downstairs to grab a drink. I then immediately realized my Ex was there. "Got...dammit.." I thought. Though I shouldn't have been surprised, Everyone was here that night. But I knew I'd have to say hello. He sat out back on the patio smoking with his back to the door. I decided not to approach him. We'd run into each other eventually. Instead I got a margarita and walked around saying hello to various people before making my way back to the bar (more alcohol please!).

It was there that it happened. It was extremely packed that night because--as I said before-- everyone was there. I squeezed myself beside the bar in hopes that I could more easily get a drink there. I was on my phone, waiting for a bartender to not be busy. I rarely pay so I don't really make a big deal out of getting my drink quickly. After sending a text I looked up and we locked eyes. He waved and I blinked twice. I then smiled walked over and said hello. I gave him a hug. we chatted a bit: he complimented my dress, I asked how work had been. From time to time other people I knew would walk by and I would make passing conversation.

One of the comedians made an all call that the show was going to start in 5 or so minutes. I told my Ex I want to say hi to some people and left him. I buzzed about talking to people, making jokes and finally found myself upstairs in the theater. I stood near the front of the stage laughing at jokes and clapping. I eventually sat. I didn't see him and he wasn't on my mind. I didn't look for him either. I left twice. Once was to order a taco (two drinks in I realized I would be drunk that night... because I didn't eat much that day). The second time was to get another drink. When I came back the second time I noticed he was at the back of the room. I was about to be called on stage as well. I went on stage, smiled, chatted with some of the comedians as someone spoke in front, and walked off stage. I sat down with my drink; excited at the fact that I was able to get on stage without tripping and falling, and that I didn't feel nervous at all, I actually enjoyed it.

After the awards show I went downstairs; the owner proclaimed a one hour open bar. I didn't go straight for the bar. I already had a drink. I walked around and talked with various people. I finally received my taco and ate it. I became drunk friends with a friendly lady comedian. I was having fun. I hate to say it but... I had all but forgotten he was there. Then he popped up again. My ex LITERALLY walked over to me and my new buddy, so we all started talking. Then my friend left and it was just me and him talking. By this time I was drunk. I don't remember everything we were talking about honestly, but it was definitely banter. He said he was going to leave. I told him, "Well it was really nice seeing you!" and gave him a hug. He looked at me, I looked at him and he said:

I feel like you're coming on to me. I'm kinda dating someone.

I blinked drunkenly twice. I think my brow furrowed in confusion. I might have even shook my head. "Go home (Insert name here)." I was so dumbfounded those were pretty much the only words I could conjure up. He turned and walked away. I watched him walk up the stairs and shook my head, rolled my eyes and walked over to the dance floor. That was actually the last time I thought about him that night. I started dancing, praline bacon had just came out (oh my gawd, if you've never had praline bacon... oh my gawd) and a cute Indian guy started talking me up. I danced some more, found myself over to the bar for some water, went to the bathroom and lost my ring, found my ring (thank you baby Jesus) talked, laughed; left. The guy gave me a lift home. I thanked him, I took off my makeup, slipped out of my dress and contacts, washed my face, ate a boiled egg (I still didn't eat enough) drank a huge mug full of water and went to bed. I woke up  angrily at the guy laying on the horn at 8 in the morning. But then I remembered what happened and what my ex said and I again shook my head. Why would he think I was hitting on him??

A) I tell everyone our breakup was mutual, and honestly it was, but I sat HIM down and told HIM we needed to break up. You know... because I wasn't interested anymore.

B) Okay okay, my friend says I am a natural flirt. This wouldn't be the first time a guy thought I wanted their attention when in actuality I was just being cordial. But everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was their that night. Why would I try and hook up with my ex boyfriend? There were a lot of guys with full heads of hair I could have been seducing.

and C) I knew he was dating someone. It's been nine months! I've dated a couple of someones.

My friend came to the conclusion that he just wanted to say he was dating someone. That could be true. Another friend of mine said he was just trying to get under my skin. I just don't understand it and I really want to. My comeback was also terrible lol. I pretty much dismissed him, but I wish I would have said something along the lines of, "Honey, you'd definitely know if I was hitting on you?" or "Right, because you're the most ideal guy at this shindig." or "Okay... congrats?"

Well, those are pretty terrible too. Either way I feel like he has this story he can tell now about how I desperately chased him around the bar all night and talked him up, touched his arm and brushed my chest against him in the hopes of him reiterating the feelings; when in actuality, I smiled I congratulated him, and tried my best to keep at least six inches in between us when possible (it was loud so eventually I had to get closer so I wouldn't be screaming all night.

Everyone is asking me why it bothers me. It bothers me because that is who I am lol. Whenever something happens like this I think to myself, "They're nuts." but then I start replaying the interaction in my head and start to think, "Well, maybe I WAS being such and such way." I over analyze things. All things. All the time. I do this ALL THE TIME.

So I was worried, maybe I was coming on to him.

NOOOPPPEE!

 I was coming on to the Indian guy hard. That night when I talked with other people, I was closer than usual with them as well, even the ladies.

I guess I'll never know what made him think I was coming on to him. I like to know things, but this one will be a mystery. I don't intend on ever seeing him again. And if I do, I'm very tempted to say hello from a distance adding, "I don't want you to think I'm coming on to you." and tapping his shoulder with a stick instead of hugging him.

Ah well. It'll be funny one day. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and keep on moving on.

The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

I knew where this was headed. I gave him two weeks... and not even a text.

So I did what I did best: played my final song. Oh to be a dying swan.


And it ended just as terribly as I could expect. And I cried; I cried my eyes out in the back of the library I work at. It was Sunday and the office would only have a few people in it. And as I sat their surrounded by dusty tapes and stacks of papers, I cried as much as I wanted because I knew I wouldn't be heard. Though, I secretly wished someone, anyone, would find me and comfort me. I'll get back to why in a second.

So my next step was to call a friend in tears. That always is the next step. But after scrolling through my phone (covered with droplets, I had to wipe the screen several times), I found I had absolutely no one to call. There was no one in my texts or my recent call list I could think to call about this, which made me burst even harder into tears. I was alone.

I had felt alone for weeks. Isolated even more when all of my roommate one by one went out of town, because they have lives. I sat on the couch and sipped sangria or picked at plates of food saying to myself, "So this is what it would be like if I lived alone, I like this." when I really didn't. I'd like it more if I myself had a life, but I really didn't.

And so when I did fall apart at work, I secretly did wish for someone to find me. I wanted someone to see my vulnerability and my fall from grace, complete with mucous production and puffy eyes. I wanted someone to see me and feel connected, but that too was asking too much of those around me...no one came.

I know I am loved by my family and friends, but moving to this strange land with their strange customs has created a cylindrical process in my life where I can't tell if I'm coming or going. My dreams become my reality and my reality my dreams.

I can't tell if I'm awake or not.

I already wrote about this phenom. You're always tired, always waking even when you're not. I wake up multiple times during the night only to find I was sleeping. I wake up before my alarm clock, only to be awaken by my alarm clock.

It's tiring.

I finally decided to call some friends in Georgia. You see... when I say "I have no friends" I think what I mean to say is, "I have no friends in New York City that I met within these last four years who I see weekly." Which is also a lie, I have a friend I see pretty much every week, but we'll get to that soon as well.

I don't have a band of people I see very often. I haven't made friends who live in Queens (near me) or anywhere close by that I would be able to see them often. Everyone I've ever met up here, every woman I've ever started feeling attached to have since moved away to some distant land or place across the country. All the other women who do live here, live so far away that coming into the city is quite the event.

That one friend I do see often. As much as I do see and talk to her, this event was one I didn't want to bring to her: I had already been talking about it for days now. I just didn't want to overload that one circuit. Seeing as how she's my only constant friend, I need her for other stuff too, like hanging out, drinks, and yoga.

So I dialed number, after number, after number. It took me three attempts before I got a person. Adding to my belief that I am truly alone.

And I cried, and voiced my frustrations and my friend told me to get a hold of myself. I finally said out loud what I've felt for a very long time: I feel alone. I feel isolated. I'm so broken up over this situation because I feel like I'm constantly in this situation; where a man won't leave me alone until I let them take me out on a date. This is two time in a row that I literally had someone begging for my time. This is two times in a row that that person disappeared without a trace. Two times. I refuse to let their be a third.

My friend told me I need to work on me and I became defensive. What did she think I've been doing for the past six years...

But that's my nature. I feel like I constantly have to defend myself. Once I saw my walls forming I stopped, I listened and I agreed... I got off the phone realizing just how lonely I felt. But also that I still do have friends.

The second person I called called me back. We chatted a bit about my issues, but by then I had cried all the tears allotted to me and she did what she did best, told me cheery stories and silly events. And I was fine with that. It took my mind off of him for exactly 10 minutes.

Then the very first person I dialed called me back.Our conversation was short, but she did seem concerned. She told me to get a massage or a manicure, something for myself. I didn't tell her I was poor and that I don't really have the money. Why would I do that to someone who cared so much?

In the end, everyone I called came through and I thank them profusely for it. But I still feel broken. I don't think they completely understand why. It's not him, or the lack of him. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. It's me. It's pretty much always about me. I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm this, I'm that. Etc, etc, etc.

When I'm selfish, I'm a self-centered asshole. At least that's what I think others probably think of me. I'm so selfless; so selfless that sometimes I forget to take care of myself. And when I do, that is all I'm able to handle.

So my beginning has become my ending. Once again I find myself in front of the glow of my screen begging you, the reader, to love me; unconditionally, including all my faults...all my musings.

 I will sulk and find a sick comfort in knowing I'm not even an afterthought to him. And yet gloss over how much of a current thought I am to so many others.

I really do need to learn to focus on the many positives in my life, instead of the few negatives.

 

What It Means To Be Black

There are no words I can produce that will ever fully encompass what it means to be black. That being said, there are no words to encompass what it means to be white, latino, muslim, gay, christian, mixed, atheist, the list continues.

But as a black young educated woman, I need to try and find those words that express my blackness.

What does it mean to be black? For me, it means from an early age being ostracized. I was told as a child I was "different." I had another child tell me "I was chocolate" when all I saw was her being my friend. I felt the uneasiness my parents felt when we went to Stone Mountain Park for the laser show, and people around us were drinking and waving Confederate flags; even though I didn't understand their fears, I could feel them deep inside myself. It means being called "colored" by my neighbor who was upset at how the neighborhood had changed. It's about feeling ugly because my hair didn't sway, or my eyes didn't sparkly like the ocean. It mean being taught early in life to always stay alert, to never cause any trouble; to always have "a way out." To be black is to get your license and almost NEVER be stopped when your Vietnamese or white friends are in your car, but if you drive around with two black young men with braids or dreads you will be stopped immediately and often. It mean feeling depressed and looking for help, and though not on purpose, those in the mental health clinic showing great surprise at your articulation of words, of feelings. It's knowing you are human but often being seen as some sub species. It means being invited to a Yacht club and being stared at. It means living in a majority white suburb and having the neighbors run for the front door when you turn the corner. It's being blamed for the economy, it's being the sole reason for why black people struggle. It's the fear of having children; regardless of what race I marry, because if my child has enough melanin in his or her skin tone, it is solely my fault; because I myself am black.

What does it mean to be black? It means enjoying sushi dates with friends, traveling to other countries, and thinking about grad school. It's about jogging and eating quinoa and finding a special place in your diet for skim milk. It's about visiting beach houses and swimming all day, listening to indie music and having deep and profound conversations with your friends about the world around you.

Honestly speaking, being black is no different than being anything else, other than the differences we put on ourselves; and others have put on us.

Being black means being human. Why can't we be human?

An Open Letter to My Internal Proceedings

Last night I came home, lay down in my bed, and fell asleep before 7; fully clothed and oblivious to the world.

I dreamt of nothing. I woke a few times only because of the sweat forming on my brow.

Mentally I stumbled awake around 2 in the morning, followed by physically rolling out of my bed-- in search of a toilet.

I returned to my room and haphazardly proceeded to undressed myself completely.

I got back into bed only to realize.... I was fully awake.

So of course I've just spent the past 3 hours replaying life in my head and watching the sky turn purple outside; feeling the onset of panic slip in and out of my throat as it often has for the past few months.

Taking deep breaths, massaging my chest; poking at mosquito bites, fiddling with my hair... anything subtle but real to wake myself up if I were really still asleep; if I'm really just dreaming of wakefulness.

I'm not.

At least, I don't think so.

From time to time I forget if I'm awake or asleep (or is it that I've lost the ability to tell the difference).

From time to time I wonder if I'm dead.

I wonder if I'm in some strange purgatory. Sometimes things are just so ridiculous, presumptuously daft, sometimes all the coincidences are too perfectly fitted together that I'm unsure if it's reality or just a trick of the mind.

I've hit a point of consciousness where the edges of my reality have melded with the edges of surreality, fantasy; the unknown.

I was feeling so good a week ago.

But that was probably just manic.