I Think Her Name Was Michelle (Lay My Head)
It’s been a minute. ‘Sup.
I’m on the train home, listening to Brent Faiyaz’s new album, and I’ve been doing well. I’ve been in a good mood these past couple weeks. Few struggles aside, things have been well. Family’s good, I’m reading more, I’m striving to be more productive and I’m working on many things, from the podcast to a brand new album. I’m studying little by little in graphic design and typography. I wanna study more but I have a 5 hour commute to work and back 3 days out of the week so I use that time for rest. I can do it, but I don’t wanna tire myself. I’m on one thing at a time. That’s how grey hair happens.
To be honest, I’ve been thinking about women lately, from different perspectives. From lust to comfort to loneliness to peace (the most important perspective), it’s been a calm couple of weeks with the same thing in mind. Some days, I wanna open my text messages and tell the woman I’m interested in that I’m just reaching out to her ‘cause she’s on my mind. Some days I wanna make her laugh. I wanna make her roll her eyes from both sides…
“You piss me off so much.” *rolls eyes*
“Keep going. Right there. I’m bout to…” *rolls eyes*
I’m 23, living in the basement of my father’s house in Central New Jersey. My mind is filled with many things: from myself to my younger self (my brothers) to the women in my life to the Reaper to Trump to the cops to guns to sex to music to the clothes I wanna buy to the lint in my wallet. Sometimes, a nigga just wants to… lay his head on his woman’s stomach and just… be quiet. Me & my God in the same room. Quiet.
There’s been times where I wake up wanting to be productive and use my off days on my endeavors and I end up getting sluggish. I don’t be having the energy. I unknowingly get uneasy and don’t say much. I just play my Ahmad Jamal and go about life. The last three dreams I had were surviving a earthquake, dying in another one and getting a blowjob… and that’s all in the same night. I’m all out of pocket, G. Lmao. I’m at a standstill. I’m standing still. My wallet is standing still. My mind is wandering in and around me. My dreams are driving and flying and hovering around like a hornet, and the Reaper is walking back and forth, smacking me, telling me, “Look nigga. I’ma kill you. Soon. Get it together.”
In some people’s lives, the medium I’m using right now (no pun intended) to empty their thoughts and nothings are their significant other. I never had one. I’ve just had myself. I never had a girlfriend to talk to and tell my fears to. My sex life ain’t much either. I have sex about once every couple months and masturbation is a best friend of mine. It’s just me, myself & I. I’ma be honest: This Brent album is driving this article right now. It’s just fitting my mindstate at the moment, which is weird. My mindstate is super calm, optimistic, hopeful, productive and good, but there’s a void there all the time. I’m starting to think that this void is something that can only be filled by someone else.
The last girl I had sex with is a dope girl. She’s just too far. The one before that is with someone else, which to me, happened right before my eyes. The girl I want right now is strictly lustful. Nothing more than that. She’s cool but it’s all sex in my eyes. After a while, you start to get tired of shit like that. Finding a girl, boning her, and then it’s in the air. If we bone, we bone and if we don’t, it’s whatever. It’s no type of consistency and/or solidarity. I been about this shit since 2015. I get scared when I think about having a girlfriend ‘cause when you’re a man, you think about the single life and how great it is. I’ma keep it funky: this shit sucks a bit. Single life has a upside though. It’s free. Being a man to your woman lowers the pockets naturally. I can always wait on that but still … the void is there.
I never was a macho man. Never. I’m a sweetheart, to be honest. I’m from the ‘hood, but I’m not hood. Y’know? I feel as though every man needs a woman. Every man. I never had one and as a black man in the age where your brother can get killed and it plays consistently on the Internet like it’s a commercial, you need someone to hold, to make joy out of, to get inside sexually, and to become your personal portal to God… or just someone to talk to, all wrapped in one.
The void can be filled with something else. I don’t know. I just need someone to get away from my world… and the world. That’s it.