F%*K You

I said F%*k you! What? Didn't you hear me? I said it right after that last text you sent me. Did you catch it? It was hidden right before the yes sir and the goodnight. I bet your ego misinterpreted it as I love you. Well lets set the record straight.
Lately, it seems there has been lots of miscommunication. Lots of personality splicing that seems to make me feel there must be 4 of us in this relationship- me and your three personalities. It is getting a little crowed in here for me. See there is you, your ego, and your balls- all of which needs to be deflated. So lets begin.

I chose you in a fantasy state that somehow teemed over into a reality. It spilled over into my daily routine. It stained my heart with a chalk outline. Now it will not leave like a bad infestation. I've tried bombing but maybe that was not enough. So now I'm screaming! I'm screaming get the F%*k out.

Your ego walked the line of sexy confidence and conceit- just the way I like it. Until the sense of humility never seemed to rise up and spread a balance. Now the noise that used to be you pumping yourself up just gives me a headache that even Mr. Goodbar can not ease. So again the sweetness in me fades and is replaced by rage saying F%*k you. Love just don't live hear anymore.

And now, the last member of your trio that seems to be encroaching on my space is your balls. Listen closely- Exclusivity is sexy, flirting is just fun, whoring is nasty, blatant disrespect is unacceptable, washing is essential, size in your mind is inflated, and both you and crack can send a person tripping but crack is addictive- you I can walk away from.

So now lets make this crystal clear and lets leave nothing left to question. Middle fingers up! Words coming out my lips as I exit through the door. F%*k you.

I had enough with reality so I hit the ground running

I dove into a fantasy and prayed it was a wet dream and not a nightmare

I inhaled deeply...the sent.... sweetly intoxicating... but was it perfume or poison?

What's beautiful is so ugly, so grimy, so raw

what's ugly is making beautiful, so different, so unique

and here I am caught in the rhythm of it

I want to wake up

Each day that old reality looks better and better

Each day I try to pinch myself and wait for my eyes to open

Each day I find myself here back here caught in the rhythm of it all

Damaged

Don't you just love some stores philosophy of returns. You know, stores like TJ Maxx and Kohls with their "we will take it back no matter what" policy. I purchased a food processor and a pair of shoes recently. Two months later the food processor stopped working. I took it back and got a full refund. The store clerk placed a label on it that said DAMAGED. This got me thinking wouldn't it be nice if it worked like that in all parts of life. For instance, you meet a girl only to realize she's got repressed daddy issues- pull out a stamp, mark her as damaged, send her back. You meet a guy and realize he has gotten his heart broken one time too many and he is determined to never care again. So he runs from commitment and sexes without emotion. What do you do?- Pull out a stamp, mark him as damaged, and send him back.

Realistically aren't we all damaged?

I know I have a bright red stamp that marks me Damaged by dead Mommy issues, self doubt, and fear of giving my all only to get nothing in return. Fear of vulnerability, fear of dependence, fear of submission, and fear of forever. Sounds pretty damaged to me. We are all a little damaged in our own ways. The gamble is that we don't have that nice warning label that tells others we need to be fixed, or looked over.

I believe the greater danger is those of us who don't even know just how damaged we are.

Like in the 6th sense when the dead people have no idea they are dead. How many of us don't even know that we are in need of repair. How many of us can be mended? Where do we start? Maybe that Chris Brown stunt was not fake. Maybe that marked the time that he realized he to was damaged. He needed to start with that "Man in the Mirror".

But how?

The media is quick to demonstrate upper class Caucasians talking out their problems with counselors. Sitting on fancy leather sofas and paying hundreds per hour. But how many minorities take advantage of establishing positive relationships with professionals who are trained to listen and guide? So often we rely on our friends or family who are just as damaged, if not more, to give us piss poor advise that leads to the same cycle of parameters that lead us to be as damaged as we are in first place.

Isn't it time that our community leads a campaign for positive mental and emotional health? Should we start being more proactive in our approach to our well being? We spend so much time dressing ourselves in the best of labels. However, labels mean little to a person so empty inside that their tears flow like rivers in the silence of the night.

I believe it is time for me to stop being so Damaged.

It's time to walk a little lighter by laying some of this baggage down. I'm ready. Are you?

What I am really saying is...

I love you has nothing at all to do with you. It means I love who I am when I am with you. It means I love the reflection of me I see when I am with you. It means that below the bull that constantly spews from you mouth, I still see God living inside you. So when I say I love you, it has nothing to do with you at all.