So I've been going through a break-up for umm... almost two months now. I finally got through the hardest days... feeling like I wanted to die, not eating, obsessively thinking about what went wrong or what he's doing.
He found his own way of moving on. And I've tried finding mine. I tried exercising, singing, writing, therapy, studying. At least at first. To get over the utter despair. And none of that shit worked... or maybe all of it worked. I'm not sure because I just needed a minute, to let the angst pass. I can see his name or picture without chest pain now... and I can finally stop looking at both just in case I can't.
I tried rushing to date other people.... so I could disrupt the urges I had to call or to combat the loneliness. But what worked for him, moving on to the next thing of interest, didn't work for me. I don't want a relationship based in anything less than a deep emotional connection. If I can't find that, or if I'm not ready... I don't want anything. So while I was worried staying single would send the message that I was waiting for him, or too hurt to move on... I know I will date when I'm ready, and now, I'm just not. I'm not only still not over my past relationship, but in retrospect, I probably wasn't ready to be in one in the first place.
People always say love will find you once you find yourself. Maybe I thought I got lucky cause I found love while I was still tryna figure the self part out. But that's not the case. And I don't care what he thinks. I'm not over what we had because it was that special to me. And it meant something because in the end, I finally figured out that I need to finish building my house before I look for a roommate.
It's not easy. For one, because I'm downright lonely. For two, because I'm terribly busy studying for the bar. For three because it's hard finding yourself when you're not sure where to look.
I miss our conversations. I miss watching you work. I miss falling asleep on the phone. Talking through sunrise. Holding hands in the village. I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling loved... even though I doubted it. I miss feeling understood. and I just... I just knew it was my turn this time...
And it wasn't. I just need to be ok. To work through these feelings of inadequacy. I want to say it's ok that I've never had a boyfriend, and never brought a guy home to meet my parents... or had a guy interested in doing so. But it isn't. It affects me deeply and until I accept it and become truly happy with myself... I'll never attract the love I want. I just don't understand why it's so damn hard to do. Only thing I could think of that's more difficult than that... is getting over him.
Showing posts with label on living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label on living. Show all posts
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
on purpose
i stumbled across a very interesting website called thesuicideproject. no, i'm not getting any crazy ideas, but i do often feel down. i deal with my depression by writing, but often times, i find it hard to write if i'm feeling down enough. this was a whirlwind of weeks, dealing with the loss of a relationship, a shitty job market, and general, wtf is my life about? how will i survive the next 20 years when i can't hold on to 1 thing that makes me happy? God is trying and testing me in ways I can't understand. Ways I don't know how to deal with other than being present... and if he is testing me i am at a loss because i have yet to find a way to act within his vision. he wants me to do something and i ain't moving yet.
i digress though. in all my confusion, and writers block, i look toward other writers to express feelings i can't or inspire thought life hasn't. the suicide project is a collection of suicide letters... some what you may think of as traditional, but many are really introspective looks at life and it's meaning or for some, lack thereof. One note read:
it's why people who can't work are so miserable. jobs, careers, give us purpose. romantic relationships give us purpose. family gives us purpose. and that doesn't mean they give us anything else. not security, not freedom, not companionship. cause you get to that place alone. they aren't around when you're literally making a life or death decision, that happens at a table where only you and God can sit. but when you're in the darkest of places, and you are deciding that, often times the only safety you have is the thought that your child, or sibling, or parent, or boyfriend does not to deserve to feel like you do right then.
purpose is life. life is love. love is unselfish.
i digress though. in all my confusion, and writers block, i look toward other writers to express feelings i can't or inspire thought life hasn't. the suicide project is a collection of suicide letters... some what you may think of as traditional, but many are really introspective looks at life and it's meaning or for some, lack thereof. One note read:
It's a common thread in many of these notes. the idea that the only thing keeping these people alive is the fear of hurting friends and family who would be destroyed by their absence. for a long time i thought love kept us alive. but no.... love plays a different role. human beings survive on purpose. love just makes us seek purpose from some more than others. at then end of the day, a person lives because they need to feel they have purpose. and with purpose comes duty, we have a duty not to disappoint, hurt or destroy those who give us purpose. our fear of breaking that trust keeps most of us alive when we feel everything else wants us dead.
"I don’t know why I breathe now. Maybe its because of that so called survival mechanism or maybe its because I don’t want those few people who would actually care if I was dead (close family) to be sad. Still, I don’t want to exist in almost constant soul-crushing pain just so a few people can have the piece of mind that I still exist."from NRTL #2
it's why people who can't work are so miserable. jobs, careers, give us purpose. romantic relationships give us purpose. family gives us purpose. and that doesn't mean they give us anything else. not security, not freedom, not companionship. cause you get to that place alone. they aren't around when you're literally making a life or death decision, that happens at a table where only you and God can sit. but when you're in the darkest of places, and you are deciding that, often times the only safety you have is the thought that your child, or sibling, or parent, or boyfriend does not to deserve to feel like you do right then.
purpose is life. life is love. love is unselfish.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Single anyone?
Still no internet! But here is what I could quickly type/copy/paste. Hopefully tomorrow we can get to the meat of things! Love ya'll and thanks for your tremendous patience.
xoxo
I’m just about my only single friend left. It seems relationships are perpetually around me. Usually my energy would be completely negative right now but I’m so fuckin happy. Not that fake I’m happy, where you smile around your friends and cry yourself to sleep at night. Nope. This positive energy is genuine. It is born because I have finally accepted my being single. I have given my happiness priority over my pain. I have too much going on to think about being single. WOW. THAT is a first. The more I find myself drifting from concern over my relationship status, the more I drift from caring about the people who avoided a relationship. I have never had a committed, long-term relationship as an adult. Had a boyfriend when I was 16 who cheated on me the entire time. And one in college I used to make the guy I wanted to be with jealous. It was long distance. It was superficial. I wasn’t committed. And now, years later, I have found comfort in my virginity. I don’t know what it means to be with someone for a year, or to have sex with the same person consistently for more than 3 months at a time.
But what I do know, is that, I have monk like qualities when it comes to sex. My body can sustain itself for months at a time. I never need to FIND someone to have sex with. I can have sex with myself. I do so very freely, and am very open about that. If you’re with a woman who doesn’t have sex with herself, you’re not with a woman.
Beyond the sex, I’m unaffected by the infatuation that clouds judgment in new relationships. I know the butterflies well. I know the rerecording of voicemails to make sure you don’t sound too excited. I know the 200 hits to their facebook a day. The memorizing pictures. When everything they say is the most adorable and hilarious thing you’ve heard. When you drift off in thought about them. Try to remember every story. Try to informally record all mildly significant moments in your lives together. And I know how much of that fades three months later. And if somewhere between the fantasy you were able to capture the true essence of that person; measure their ability to make you smile, to cheer you up and on, and to generally be present in your life in mind and spirit- then, maybe you got something.
I have good practice with the reality. Not so much with the remainder. But I’m here. And single. And happy. Content that what I have to offer is more than a lot of men can recognize. Thankfully, I’ve been single long enough to know that I can wait a little longer, stay a little lonlier And further, relishing in the fact that I’m a relationship virgin. And we all know how much men love virgins ;)
xoxo
I’m just about my only single friend left. It seems relationships are perpetually around me. Usually my energy would be completely negative right now but I’m so fuckin happy. Not that fake I’m happy, where you smile around your friends and cry yourself to sleep at night. Nope. This positive energy is genuine. It is born because I have finally accepted my being single. I have given my happiness priority over my pain. I have too much going on to think about being single. WOW. THAT is a first. The more I find myself drifting from concern over my relationship status, the more I drift from caring about the people who avoided a relationship. I have never had a committed, long-term relationship as an adult. Had a boyfriend when I was 16 who cheated on me the entire time. And one in college I used to make the guy I wanted to be with jealous. It was long distance. It was superficial. I wasn’t committed. And now, years later, I have found comfort in my virginity. I don’t know what it means to be with someone for a year, or to have sex with the same person consistently for more than 3 months at a time.
But what I do know, is that, I have monk like qualities when it comes to sex. My body can sustain itself for months at a time. I never need to FIND someone to have sex with. I can have sex with myself. I do so very freely, and am very open about that. If you’re with a woman who doesn’t have sex with herself, you’re not with a woman.
Beyond the sex, I’m unaffected by the infatuation that clouds judgment in new relationships. I know the butterflies well. I know the rerecording of voicemails to make sure you don’t sound too excited. I know the 200 hits to their facebook a day. The memorizing pictures. When everything they say is the most adorable and hilarious thing you’ve heard. When you drift off in thought about them. Try to remember every story. Try to informally record all mildly significant moments in your lives together. And I know how much of that fades three months later. And if somewhere between the fantasy you were able to capture the true essence of that person; measure their ability to make you smile, to cheer you up and on, and to generally be present in your life in mind and spirit- then, maybe you got something.
I have good practice with the reality. Not so much with the remainder. But I’m here. And single. And happy. Content that what I have to offer is more than a lot of men can recognize. Thankfully, I’ve been single long enough to know that I can wait a little longer, stay a little lonlier And further, relishing in the fact that I’m a relationship virgin. And we all know how much men love virgins ;)
Thursday, July 9, 2009
on lies
it is said that a man's love is life and a woman's life is love. well i'd agree. nothing i love more than the feeling of being in love. and now, that i am truly single, and no longer in pursuit of the man i once loved, i find myself missing even the destructive moments. the tears, the arguments, the long emails- because they had been a part of me for so long. i miss the drama, i'm convinced it made my writing better, because there is beauty in pain. and now i feel cloud nine tickling my feet, things are so much clearer and the writing is not as raw. not necessarily a reality i want to change, but one i want to acknowledge.
so if a woman's life is love, then her life should include a love of manifestations of love, including sex. i believe women love sex more than men. we do not want it as much because you are usually not good at it. yes, even you... WE FAKED IT! women masturbate more then men, because you see, men tend to do it when they can't get any. We do it regardless. and she may say she doesn't, but she either does or wants to.
I think relationships end up so fucked because everybody's lying. if you are with a woman who climaxes everytime, she is lying. she wants your love. committment, attention, affection- and oral sex.... make her climax. that pumpin shit rarely gets her anywhere ('cept for a couple good days in 06) but if she came, she made it happen, not you. so before you pat yourself on the back, really think back to your experience and ask yourself, did i do all i could? anyless than your best, and you can guarantee she faked it. More than half of it is mental, I could do my taxes while you pumped till your appendix burst. but we won't tell you that- nope. we lyin to feed your ego cause you need to feel irreplacable to love. well my brother, my index finger alone has done more damage than you.
the next time i have sex it'll last for 2 days. and when you don't get it right the first time, i'll grab your hand and we'll do it again. we will watch jada, we will touch each other slowly and deeply. you will concentrate on stimulating all of my senses. and if we can't make love, we can make truth.
mmmm...
so if a woman's life is love, then her life should include a love of manifestations of love, including sex. i believe women love sex more than men. we do not want it as much because you are usually not good at it. yes, even you... WE FAKED IT! women masturbate more then men, because you see, men tend to do it when they can't get any. We do it regardless. and she may say she doesn't, but she either does or wants to.
I think relationships end up so fucked because everybody's lying. if you are with a woman who climaxes everytime, she is lying. she wants your love. committment, attention, affection- and oral sex.... make her climax. that pumpin shit rarely gets her anywhere ('cept for a couple good days in 06) but if she came, she made it happen, not you. so before you pat yourself on the back, really think back to your experience and ask yourself, did i do all i could? anyless than your best, and you can guarantee she faked it. More than half of it is mental, I could do my taxes while you pumped till your appendix burst. but we won't tell you that- nope. we lyin to feed your ego cause you need to feel irreplacable to love. well my brother, my index finger alone has done more damage than you.
the next time i have sex it'll last for 2 days. and when you don't get it right the first time, i'll grab your hand and we'll do it again. we will watch jada, we will touch each other slowly and deeply. you will concentrate on stimulating all of my senses. and if we can't make love, we can make truth.
mmmm...
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
the miseducation part 1
Lauryn Hill is gifted. To put it simply, she may be one of the most brilliant writers and musicians of our time. The only thing inhibiting her success in the mainstream is her change from the commercial Lauryn we all know and love to the "psycho babble" Lauryn we feared and misunderstood... but little did you all know, my girl was always ahead of her time, you just weren't paying attention... "And even after all my logic and my theory, I ADD a muthafucker so you ignorant niggas hear me." That being said, Lauryn and I have always been kindred spirits. Poet to poet, brown skin to brown skin, love of the classics (Carter G. Woodson), and... our absence from school the day LOVE was taught.
I hate writing poems about love... well the ones about heartbreak and being in love and all that ..stuff. However, some stuff just needs to be said ya know? I remember a few years ago, I wrote a poem that went "Black Love is Black wealth and damnit... I'm rich bitch!!!" Well today, I can declare I am not only broke.. but in debt. The poem went on to discuss the beautiful examples of love I had seen on TV or read about in books. No mention of my parents or my sister or my cousin... nothing. I don't have many examples to go by. And even if I did... eating a bunch of brownies and cakes doesn't make a great baker. The bottom line is I don't understand love and to be perfectly honest... I never have.
My first love was Tupac Shakur. Eight years old I was listening to his music religiously and memorizing the lyrics, wearing his shirts, dubbing tapes aaaah, the good old days. My elementary and middle school friends should remember MsShakur4life... the coolest screen name ever! Haha. Some should remember a rainy September 13th, candles and a Ouija board. Torn between life and death, I remember my parents being concerned about what they deemed my obsession but shit... it was love. Love. My first love. There wasn't a man on this earth that could say I loved him before I loved Pac.
That was until Keenan. I was in love with a celebrity for so long loving a person I could touch was unreal. I still didn't understand love so I didn't have any demands of it. I just needed to be touched. I don't even mean in the sexual sense... In the sense that, if I could touch him, it meant he was real... it meant the love was real. He was my BOYFRIEND. I enjoyed just saying the word. He thought I was smart and pretty. I was amazed... but I didn't know shit about love. I knew that Keenan loved... a lot. A lot of women. He apologized. Over and over again. But it wasn't until I was 2,000 miles away and received news of twins (that weren't mine) I finally understood what love wasn't. Still meant I didn't understand what it was either.
Love is enduring. I started to love whoever. I threw the word around like a football and there are boyfriends in between Pac and Keenan and him that thought I loved them. But I was playing the game. What's the harm in telling a guy you love them cause you like them?? Well... it's a lie for starters :)
But then there was Him. God. I love him like I love oxygen. And in my love of him... I began to love ANOTHER. But loving someone doesn't make them love you. I found that in loving him I learned a lot about loving myself. You know when you love someone so much you get frustrated because you can't even fix your lips to express it? Or when their actions hurt you so much you are literally sick to your stomach? Somedays I can't breath at the thought of life without them... Love is kind yes but it can hurt like a bitch sometimes too. I love this man so much I refuse to call him my "other half" because, if I have learned anything about love it's that you can't count on someone to make up your half. I love him so much I worked damn hard to make myself whole so the both of us as wholes can compliment each other. I love him so much I smile if I think he's happy. The crazy thing about love is that it can take you to the top... and to the bottom.
So here I am in love... but in debt. and tears. I have been taking some remedial courses on it and I figured that I better stick to loving the Big Him... cause he has all the answers I need. And I keep tryna figure out shit but it ain't meant for me to know. I still love him... the human him, and he hurts me and it hurts me BUT... I pray for strength and healing. strength and healing. strength and healing. *Shaking my head* Love... and strength and healing.
So if you are sitting here and actually read through all of this and find that you have somehow been Miseducated.... take time to go back to school. If you love somebody (specially the fellas) act like it... tell her... show her. She is dying to hear it. But be honest about your feelings cause if you keep waiting until things are just right... you'll miss out on a happiness you've never imagined.
**Striving for perfect attendance**
JPB
"Let me tell you somethin... This here.. right now.. at this very moment... is all that matters to me. I love you. And that's urgent like a motherfucker."
4/6/07
I hate writing poems about love... well the ones about heartbreak and being in love and all that ..stuff. However, some stuff just needs to be said ya know? I remember a few years ago, I wrote a poem that went "Black Love is Black wealth and damnit... I'm rich bitch!!!" Well today, I can declare I am not only broke.. but in debt. The poem went on to discuss the beautiful examples of love I had seen on TV or read about in books. No mention of my parents or my sister or my cousin... nothing. I don't have many examples to go by. And even if I did... eating a bunch of brownies and cakes doesn't make a great baker. The bottom line is I don't understand love and to be perfectly honest... I never have.
My first love was Tupac Shakur. Eight years old I was listening to his music religiously and memorizing the lyrics, wearing his shirts, dubbing tapes aaaah, the good old days. My elementary and middle school friends should remember MsShakur4life... the coolest screen name ever! Haha. Some should remember a rainy September 13th, candles and a Ouija board. Torn between life and death, I remember my parents being concerned about what they deemed my obsession but shit... it was love. Love. My first love. There wasn't a man on this earth that could say I loved him before I loved Pac.
That was until Keenan. I was in love with a celebrity for so long loving a person I could touch was unreal. I still didn't understand love so I didn't have any demands of it. I just needed to be touched. I don't even mean in the sexual sense... In the sense that, if I could touch him, it meant he was real... it meant the love was real. He was my BOYFRIEND. I enjoyed just saying the word. He thought I was smart and pretty. I was amazed... but I didn't know shit about love. I knew that Keenan loved... a lot. A lot of women. He apologized. Over and over again. But it wasn't until I was 2,000 miles away and received news of twins (that weren't mine) I finally understood what love wasn't. Still meant I didn't understand what it was either.
Love is enduring. I started to love whoever. I threw the word around like a football and there are boyfriends in between Pac and Keenan and him that thought I loved them. But I was playing the game. What's the harm in telling a guy you love them cause you like them?? Well... it's a lie for starters :)
But then there was Him. God. I love him like I love oxygen. And in my love of him... I began to love ANOTHER. But loving someone doesn't make them love you. I found that in loving him I learned a lot about loving myself. You know when you love someone so much you get frustrated because you can't even fix your lips to express it? Or when their actions hurt you so much you are literally sick to your stomach? Somedays I can't breath at the thought of life without them... Love is kind yes but it can hurt like a bitch sometimes too. I love this man so much I refuse to call him my "other half" because, if I have learned anything about love it's that you can't count on someone to make up your half. I love him so much I worked damn hard to make myself whole so the both of us as wholes can compliment each other. I love him so much I smile if I think he's happy. The crazy thing about love is that it can take you to the top... and to the bottom.
So here I am in love... but in debt. and tears. I have been taking some remedial courses on it and I figured that I better stick to loving the Big Him... cause he has all the answers I need. And I keep tryna figure out shit but it ain't meant for me to know. I still love him... the human him, and he hurts me and it hurts me BUT... I pray for strength and healing. strength and healing. strength and healing. *Shaking my head* Love... and strength and healing.
So if you are sitting here and actually read through all of this and find that you have somehow been Miseducated.... take time to go back to school. If you love somebody (specially the fellas) act like it... tell her... show her. She is dying to hear it. But be honest about your feelings cause if you keep waiting until things are just right... you'll miss out on a happiness you've never imagined.
**Striving for perfect attendance**
JPB
"Let me tell you somethin... This here.. right now.. at this very moment... is all that matters to me. I love you. And that's urgent like a motherfucker."
4/6/07
Death is never about dying
I got serenity tattooed on my wrist, so I could remember peace in my darkest hour. When it throbs I know it's a reminder of peace in life. Reminds me to calm myself. A mark of the flesh as a reminder to thrive in the spirit. My flesh doesn't mean much to me. I can tell in the way I treat it... but my spirit! Aaaah. God breathes life into my spirit and I cannot mistreat that. No matter how hard I try. But my flesh must die for me to live in the spirit. And you see... you who are my enemy are actually my savior.
They tell you to love your enemy but I am in love with my enemy. He hates me. He hates the way I love, the way I think, the way I act. In his eyes I'm only flesh but see, when I look at him... I see his spirit. I'm sorry for well, the days I thought in terms of flesh. But for the days I thought in the spirit.... well those were the best days of my life. I imagined a day that he would love my spirit but in a year and a half that day has yet to come. It is so easy to get caught up in the flesh. In all that is around you. We forget our partners in spirit who didn't lust after our flesh. The ones who knew our middle names (or lack there of :)) or who loved our mothers for making us. Who were proud of us. Who were happy to see us. Who were honest with us.
I always loved your spirit. Whether you'll believe it or not... cold rain has a way of telling the flesh a lot about the spririt.
But you know, God has been moving in me in miraculous ways. He told me my flesh would have to die in order for spirit to live. I had to release the pain in my flesh for the freedom of my spririt. All this time I kept wondering why I loved you. It was because you you were my enemy. You would betray me. I needed you to. You see you don't know how to lov anyone living. I have to die for you to ever love to me. You wanted to love me so badly you hated me to death. You could kill my flesh but you could never take my spirit's will to live.
Romans 8:13 says "Through the spirit, heal your flesh, you will live, prosper. The words I speak are spirit." I can kill my flesh with the word. In this case you words were, "so, bye." Wrenched with indifference. I felt meaningless but I started to understand that this had to happen. I had to be betrayed, had to be dismissed so I could live.
As I sat in the cold rain dying I finally understood the purpose. When I approached God with an open heart... once I satisfied his love he didn't deny me. I prayed for everthing I experienced. I prayed to be killed.
I prayed to die. I prayed for this because I prayed for my spirit. I prayed for you to kill me without taking my will to live. You can't have that.
I think back to my freshman year of highschool when my mother kept saying how much she wanted a doctor in the family. So as I sat in all of my math and science courses writing compositions, and then told people I would become a plastic surgeon.. I gave up. My mother or anyone else could not make me into a person I wasn't. I was apologetic, I meant well when I lied about my interest in medicine. But i was not that person. And when I think about you... I love you because you are me. There are a world of people asking you to be someone you are not. You may have the ability to be... but you are not.
I wanted you to be a man you couldn't be. One my flesh wanted so badly it ignored what my spirit made clear. No one has ever required anything else of you. The success of your flesh meant you could ignore everything else around you because your success in flesh was enough. You don't have to call, we'll call you... you don't have to care, we'll care for you... you don't have to work, we'll work for you... you don't have to love, we'll love you...
Damn I loved you spirit so much I wanted you to be a doctor when you couldn't be. You didn't know how. So you did what you knew how to do. Love the flesh. Now that you have killed me, my flesh is dead. All that's left is my spirit and you don't know how to love that. So when you hit me with the "bye" I finally understood. Bye is forever. Say goodbye to my flesh... I am dead to you.
They tell you to love your enemy but I am in love with my enemy. He hates me. He hates the way I love, the way I think, the way I act. In his eyes I'm only flesh but see, when I look at him... I see his spirit. I'm sorry for well, the days I thought in terms of flesh. But for the days I thought in the spirit.... well those were the best days of my life. I imagined a day that he would love my spirit but in a year and a half that day has yet to come. It is so easy to get caught up in the flesh. In all that is around you. We forget our partners in spirit who didn't lust after our flesh. The ones who knew our middle names (or lack there of :)) or who loved our mothers for making us. Who were proud of us. Who were happy to see us. Who were honest with us.
I always loved your spirit. Whether you'll believe it or not... cold rain has a way of telling the flesh a lot about the spririt.
But you know, God has been moving in me in miraculous ways. He told me my flesh would have to die in order for spirit to live. I had to release the pain in my flesh for the freedom of my spririt. All this time I kept wondering why I loved you. It was because you you were my enemy. You would betray me. I needed you to. You see you don't know how to lov anyone living. I have to die for you to ever love to me. You wanted to love me so badly you hated me to death. You could kill my flesh but you could never take my spirit's will to live.
Romans 8:13 says "Through the spirit, heal your flesh, you will live, prosper. The words I speak are spirit." I can kill my flesh with the word. In this case you words were, "so, bye." Wrenched with indifference. I felt meaningless but I started to understand that this had to happen. I had to be betrayed, had to be dismissed so I could live.
As I sat in the cold rain dying I finally understood the purpose. When I approached God with an open heart... once I satisfied his love he didn't deny me. I prayed for everthing I experienced. I prayed to be killed.
I prayed to die. I prayed for this because I prayed for my spirit. I prayed for you to kill me without taking my will to live. You can't have that.
I think back to my freshman year of highschool when my mother kept saying how much she wanted a doctor in the family. So as I sat in all of my math and science courses writing compositions, and then told people I would become a plastic surgeon.. I gave up. My mother or anyone else could not make me into a person I wasn't. I was apologetic, I meant well when I lied about my interest in medicine. But i was not that person. And when I think about you... I love you because you are me. There are a world of people asking you to be someone you are not. You may have the ability to be... but you are not.
I wanted you to be a man you couldn't be. One my flesh wanted so badly it ignored what my spirit made clear. No one has ever required anything else of you. The success of your flesh meant you could ignore everything else around you because your success in flesh was enough. You don't have to call, we'll call you... you don't have to care, we'll care for you... you don't have to work, we'll work for you... you don't have to love, we'll love you...
Damn I loved you spirit so much I wanted you to be a doctor when you couldn't be. You didn't know how. So you did what you knew how to do. Love the flesh. Now that you have killed me, my flesh is dead. All that's left is my spirit and you don't know how to love that. So when you hit me with the "bye" I finally understood. Bye is forever. Say goodbye to my flesh... I am dead to you.
R.I.P. Jordyne Persephone B.
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