You never thought life would’ve taken you in this direction.
You always thought you were a smart girl with a head on your shoulder.
Sure, you love to have fun. Dance a little, shake your hips. Even get wild, but you’ve mostly been a responsible, multifaceted woman.
You were naive. Maybe you got into a relationship that you thought was love. Maybe you derailed your whole life in pursuit of it. Now it’s left you battered, broken, and just a shell of a person you once were.
Maybe you were blindsided by sickness or disability that’s left you much more than physically limited. It’s left you with the tauntings of depression and the incessant chatter of anxiety. You’ve become socially awkward, obsessive, and on the brink of a mental breakdown. …
I said what I said.
It’s okay to ooze confidence. It’s okay to stop smiling when you don’t feel like it, stop laughing at those uncomfortable jokes. Look them up and down, hold your head up, and strut away. Your side-eye alone should say, you wouldn’t dare.
You’ve got to reach into your “I could never do that” audacity and let her fight for you.
Look in the mirror and shatter everything you’re pretending to be. Unleash the over-the-top, picky, judgmental, arrogant, delusional, type A, passionate, vulnerable woman you’re ashamed of.
It’s not about faking it. You don’t have to stop being nice. …
Everybody wants a piece of me.
They want my smile. They want my laughter. They want my company. They want my advice. They want my pussy. They want my ass. They want my sex. They want my hard work. They want my cooperation. They want my words. They want my obedience. They want me happy.
They want me.
Yet nobody wants me at all.
They don’t want my coldness. They don’t want my moody. They don’t want my intensity. They don’t want my love. They don’t want my wild. They don’t want my passion. They don’t want my tears. They don’t want my fears. …
You’ve heard time and time again that nice girls finish last in society.
Society normalizes a plethora of habits that don’t make any sense: debt, foods that make you sick, and only two weeks vacation- ugh.
It becomes discouraging to stand your ground when everyone seems to hold some contempt toward how you show up.
People say nice girls finish last because they think you’re weak, that you live in a place of naivety, and victimhood. I mean, not saying you haven’t been there, but now you’re over it.
You don’t have to stop being a nice girl. …
Ever get into a bad mood for no reason? Yeah, me too.
I used to beat myself up about it. My life is great. I don’t have much to complain about, so what’s the problem? Anyone who knows what bad moods are like knows how this story ends: instead of psyching myself out of the bad mood, I’d just end up feeling guilty for not being able to power through it.
Then something happened. I first noticed it because I realized that after some time going through a low mood I’d feel perfectly fine. This made me think that maybe it was normal to have these swings in moods. …
It jumped on my chest and started choking me.
Apparently, it’s what people call sleep paralysis, but coming from a Christian household I’ve always known it as demonic attacks.
I’m definitely a dreamer. Extremely stressful situations and warnings in my life show up in symbolism through my dreams.
I rarely dream- that I can remember- of anything just for fun. Throw in a sex dream why don’t you? Go ahead. Make my day.
But, no. They’re usually in the form of a nightmare or warning. …
You’re allowed to distance yourself from people you love. It seems counter-intuitive. It sends a shock to the system.
Why would anyone want to distance themselves from someone they love?
Creating distance from someone who’s made your life a living hell seems reasonable, but someone you love? Nah.
It takes a heart that can hold vast amounts of sadness yet still see hope in valuing something more. It takes courage to walk away. It’s sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do.
It’s not a failure. It’s listening to your intuition.
I’m not advocating for cutting off connections at a time where relationships are already scarce. …
Thunder thighs are for sturdy women.
My thighs are pillars of brass, ebony, cigar, and cinnamon sticks. Each sure step I take vibrates up to center me. These thighs are strength.
They steady the vessel of water balanced on my head. A long walk home, sun beating, tight leather on my skin. Black weathered straps.
They carry the lifespring. Sometimes buckets of tears spill over, but are never too heavy. I bathe my sorrows away. I replenish dry bones and dry souls. I quench my thirst for love, peace, and understanding. I quell fires of discord. …
“You’re such a white girl”, he said.
This was coming from a date I was on with a black guy, who later confessed that he only dated white girls- but I was different, a different kind of black girl. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends that he was actually dating a black girl.
Huh? Well, this was a new one. I was stunned, not mad. Even curious. I went on a few more dates with him. I wanted to understand his perspective of this-situation.
Shouldn’t I be outraged for all the black women out there?
At the end of the day, maybe I’m jaded, but my hate is too high of a price to spare. People are allowed to love whoever they want, regardless of their race. …
Most of my imaginary problems come from feeling vastly strange, weird, and misunderstood.
We search for communities that help us feel acceptance about ourselves.
Segregation isn’t necessarily about exclusion, but familiarity.
We know in theory, we’re all different, but when the people closest to you don’t seem to understand you, it’s natural to think you’re unusual.
I took the Myers Briggs personality test to find out I’m an INFJ type, intuitive, a deep feeler, and a judger. It didn’t matter how relevant the results were, I felt that it described me. …