Tired

I'm just trying to understand what god wants from me. Every time i feel like things just might be going right something comes out of left field and knocks me off my square. I'm cried out yet my my emotions and body keep going thru the motions. I swear some days i just want to disappear into a cloud of nothing, since nothing i do is ever good enough, my timing is never right, I'm never pretty enough or nice enough, or perfect enough. Maybe i just never do anything right? I'm trying to convince myself that god is raising me up for something better but i have this sinking feeling that i will never truly know what happiness  really is. Y'all i just wanna be happy, i just wanna stop crying, i wanna stop struggling i wanna see increase and above all i just don't wanna be the one with egg on my face once again. I'm so angry, I'm so angry its scary. The need to retaliate, the need to carry a vendetta. There are so many people i harbor so much hate for and i cant seem to sing it off, cry it off or even pray it off. I'm mad as hell, twice scorned and downgraded daily.I'm in so much pain but its the kind that no drink can ease, and no drug can soothe. I threw my last little bit of glitter in the air and it wasn't nearly as beautiful as i thought i would be. Why don't i ever win, why is it every time i can taste the sweet aroma of victory just over the next hill i get knocked back to square one...I'm tired and my faith is fleeting, so now as only a cancer can i return to my shell for it seems that i am doomed to be a bitter bitch forever.
Life: 2 Christian: 0
and that's the way it always has been.

Why?

was reading an article and i happened across these gut wrenching facts…it left me tears but most of all it left me in prayer.

CHICAGO MURDERS SINCE JAN 1 2008- 1685

-ASIAN 3 (0.25%)

-WHITE/HISPANIC 390 (35%)

-UNKNOWN(4.3%)

-BLACK 1,218 (73.3%)

The ages of 15-35 account for well over 50% of these (mainly gun related 1,373 to be exact) murders.


Male -1,488

Female- 194

I pose this question to anyone who can answer it with an intelligible response, Why? Why are our black men gunning each other down? Drugs? Money? Gangs? WHY? It is sad when the highest GPA that can be found in some hoods is a 2.0, or that many of our inner city youth dont see past the age of 30…that is very scary. What can money but you when you are laid out in a church? What can a gang do for you while your mother wilts to the floor at your casket? What does respect do for you when you are not here to bask in it? How did we find ourselves in a place where murder is the top story every night, or children playing in the streets die just doing what they love.

Where are the parents? Why are you out all night instead of rasing your kids, or chasing a man while your kids are in the streets. Parents arent what they used to be. Im appalled by the way some people allow their children to talk to them and behave in private more less in public. Where have the days gone when mamma told you to shut up you wondered if you could ever talk again, or the days when enventhough granny had never hit you you found yourself fearing her wrath? What happened to the days when men were men and frustration was taken out like gentlemen in a hand to hand fight…it takes a man to step to another man to fight…any bitch can pull a trigger and run away.

Black people we need to do better. Stop listening to these fake rappers who rhyme about a life of crime they never lived. Go to school and open your mind so that you can AFFORD the money cars and clothes, since you want to be so successful. Parents wave goodbye to the streets and hello to real life because the truth of the matter is…our black youth are dying…and we are killing them. Sound off below…i want to hear from you. I want to hear your stories, and i still what to know…WHY?

RAGE

Im fighting, Fighting like im in the ring with tyson, or being mugged on a street corner;but im not fighting flesh and blood. there are so many emotions flooding in right now but the strongest of all is hate. Because:
I hate you like the gum on the bottom of a fresh pair of kicks, or the last drink i had before worshiping the porcelain god.
I hate you like the piece of ice that make me bust my ass, or the splinter that never seems to come out in one piece.
I hate you like the poor hate Americans.
I hate you like a dropped call of the bill that cut it off.
I hate you like a car owner hates the repo man.
I hate you lie a useless debit card.
I hate you like the one short nail that i broke last week.
I hate you like the tree hates the chainsaw or like a stream hates a damn.
i hate you like makeup hates oil, like a fresh perm hates water.
I hate you like an anorexic hate thanksgiving
The thought of you makes my entrails twist with disgust. I could just throw up my lunch, I want to tell you just how much i hate you but the bit of God that remains in me when i see you wont let me. I secretly wish i could pray the worst over you. I would pray that everything you ever lied to get crashes down around you, or  that those who love you leave you in the gutter with nothing. But most of all i would pray  that you die an old lonely fossil all alone with nothing but thoughts of your lies and deceit.
I sat here and stewed for hours and tried not to write this, but your reckless disregard for the well-being of others has left me numb to your struggle. Im trying to pray this anger off me but its not happening, its not working, i still hate you. I HATE YOU i cant say it enough bc my fingers seem to love the delicate waltz across my keys that create the words. God im sorry for this post….but i had to get it out…or i think i was going to explode #FUCKyouWITHaSMILE!

Come As You Are

I often wonder why i try so hard. People keep telling me oh its just a car, or its only for a night, its just one weekend there will be another...but how many times can you hear "its just" or "its only" before it becomes "its always"? Im afraid that i will acquiesce myself away with all of these mini compromises. I struggle to find a way out of the storm...but no matter how far or how fast i run all i find are locked doors and before the storm is over im cowering in the gutter bogged down by my own anguish. I don't need pity, i just want someone to understand... Im tired of the religious bullshit that people try to feed me, the stuff that you know you wouldn't want to hear if you were in my shoes, the things that dont help in a moment of weakness. Don't judge my character from this blog, im just venting. I need to get some of this off my chest or i feel like i will suffocate under the unbearable load. More than anything i want to cry...but i dont want to cry alone. I dont have a lover...one who is strong enough to hold me up while im breaking down and too many people look to me for strength for me to remove my mask before the masses. So i sit alone, privately to remove my "band-aid" and nurse the complicated laceration that i try so desperately to hide under fashionable clothes, perfectly applied M.A.C and most deceptively a smile...

Period.

  Our love was a page ripped from a ghetto fairy tale. A hip-hopera full of mezzo highs, stalked by bassy lows. A forbidden fruit nurtured by the tree of infatuation that fell onto the grounds of rumors, jealousy and moral ambivalence. A rural-urban love that matured in the projects on the outskirts of a college town.

   I paid for my matriculation while the private education of love was being taught by a able teacher and apt pupil. God sat high and looked low as the flames of lust burned hot and died while a love that would stand as testament to its own alluring power rose from the ashes.

  Never had i submitted in such a way, he was mine and i was his. It was there before the eyes of the bewildered masses that we baptized ourselves in the the warmth of love, the comfort of trust and the temple of passion.

  Alas the bond would break, a positive sign with a negative side positioned itself between the two of us and the cooling waters of fear extinguished our fire.

  A heart once filled with passion now lay shattered spilling the seeds of hate. My heart healed but bore a secret, For withing is frigid stone exterior it protected a glimmer, a hope, a remnant of that love that I had lost and clandestinely longed for.

  His apology has ended my emotional drought with the gentle rain of reconciliation, yet the love that i thought would leave lives on. It is forever stashed and filed in a special place with his name on it. It no longer awaits his return but it forever incubates the piece of his heart that he left with me...that replaces the piece of mine that he took with him.

  There will never be another him, me nor us, but as long as i live i will cherish and remember my first professor of love. The Bible says that it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks and my heart has written anthologies yet tonight he gave me what no other man ever could, the one thing i needed to finish our story for good, a period, it signifies the end but now that im here...i just want to read it all over again...

Sometimes I Cry

Sometimes i feel like people dont understand where im coming from. Yes im beautfiul yes i have some of the greatest family and friends in the world but sometimes thats just noit enough. Im in mourning, i morn the loss of my lifestyle, my comfort and most of all my independence. I have done everything i know how to fight the depression that stalks me everyday...I pray, better yet i beg god for a way of escape, and while i understand that there is a trying period, it is so hard to just keep going. Im so sick of "holy" folk who pretend that they never have a moment of weakness. I need those who are real enough to admit that some days when the clouds hung they lost faith. I feel like im losing my faith. im doing everything that i can given the limited resources that i have to pull myself of out this hole but nothing seems to be working. I get so frustrated because im tired of all the bullshit. im tired of getting dressed up and smiling in managers faces and lying about why i want the job...sometimes i just want to say "BITCH i want to work here because i need a job DUH!". im tired of the song and dance, im tired of revising my resume over and over again to say the same thing in a different way. Somebody please just tell me what the fuck are they looking for? I'm tired of hearing what employers are looking for then walking around the establishment and seeing the polar opposite. I just need a chance to make my life what it once was. I have been begging god for a way, a door, a window, hell ill even crawl thru a doggy door. Im depressed and i cant hide it. Im sick of pretending to be happy and okay when all i do when iim by myself is cry and pray. Its getting harder and harder for me to hide the pain and frustration. My storage is empty....i mean that literally and figuratively i am being bled dry just trying to make something of myself. Im desperate...so desperate for a change. When i look back at my life and see the things i lost it hurts su bad. I have Louis Vuitton Luggage under my eyes because i dont sleep...i just lay awake at night worrying, stressing, crying and praying. God has always been right on time but this time.... my resources are gone and i dont know what to do...somebody please help me.

For all the colors of the rainbow

How many times have we given our all to someone, only to get nothing in return?
How many times have we given our hearts away only to have it broken...again?
How many times have you trusted someone only to be betrayed, cheated on or disrespected?
Last night as i watched for colored girls i realized that the themes portrayed in that movie are not for colored girls or even for colored people...they are for the world. I realized that i had been struggling for years to find my stuff after this, that and HIM. I looked in my suitcase because i thought maybe i had lost it on a trip, i looked in my trash because i thought maybe i had thrown it out , i retraced my steps because i thought...maybe just maybe i had left it on the train. I have been searching for years for my stuff high and low here there and everywhere...everywhere except the last place that i knew i had it. I last saw my stuff while i was curled up in the arms of the man of distorted my dreams, as we lay and as we kissed and whispered sweet nothings in the eager ears of one another. It wasn't until recently when i hoped to pack my bags to find comfort in the arms of another that i even discovered that it was gone.
    At the doctor they found no pulse because my heart was gone, my temperature was low because nothing but embers remained of the passion that once burned within  ...she told me i was dead and i couldn't cry because the wells had run dry and my emotions had taken a vacation long before this solo heartbreaking conversation i was numb.
   But wait an epiphany, in an instant i knew where my stuff had gone it was last seen pinned to the coat tails of my lover lost as he snatched his heart from my grasp and shattered my world made of glass. his feet crunched on the shards that remained of what was once my life, in his departure  he took my heart my love... all of my stuff
MY STUFF
Looking back at the years i have lived in lack, the absence of my stuff. broken hearts lay strewn in my beaten path. i wonder if he knows he has it, i wonder ft he takes it out and smells for my scent when no one is looking. Or maybe he doesn't even know.... I guess ill never know
Does anyone have a heart,a touch of passion or maybe just some stuff lying around to sell?