good eyes.

this is from a conversation from months ago. he's pretty good at this. it's outstanding, actually. here:

"you can't see yourself. most people can't.

You are pretty... like ... VERY pretty. But you also dont have pictures of you bent over a sink in a dirty bathroom. All that integrity, and pride (while good for weeding out drug dealers, and overtly violent men) will attract a higher grade liar. They are non-confrontational, evasive, and hard to spot. This is a "good" problem compared to what some people get, but it can be really annoying.

so yeah... your gonna get soft, manipulative men."


this time, it ain't this. i'm sure of it. he's not soft. or manipulative. definitely avoiding something, though. i'm tired. a little down. i'm going to make shit.

dreams with mouths.

my dreams have been talking to me, lately.

they've warned me. they've reminded to what i need. they've reminded me to when i was better than i am now. i recognized what i need to do. well, one of the things i need
to do. i wanted to avoid getting all open and personal, so i will. i gotta say this, though - i need internal motivation. i've always been silently competitive. i need to see something being done in order to be pushed to do better. i'm beginning to grasp what i already understood. we need one another. we really do.

my mama told me i don't like to be alone. i fought accepting it. then, i thought about it for a minute and decided that she was right. the thing is, i value my alone time. i need it to think. i need it for introspection. i need it for music. i need it for studying. but once all of those things have been done - i wanna love with my hands and eyes and mouth. i wanna draw inspiration and hot skin from this invisible him. i'm in no rush, but i know what i want to feel whenever i decide to feel it.

no rush, but it's urgent as a muhhfxcka.

still, i notice that i find comfort in being alone. i have this idea that no one man can love me appropriately. an idea that i honestly don't believe; i just tell it to myself so that i won't be surprised when disappointment surfaces. my chest seems settled in solitary. it doesn't burn from lit fire, or ache like a throbbing wound when someone isn't around. i don't see it necessary to expect anything. expecting holds the sub-sequence of waiting. i hate waiting. it makes my limbs want to detach and run away from me and tension. then, what if i wait and nothing ever comes? it has to be a waste of time. but, i know that it could be worth it. nothing makes sense. everything makes sense. i'm hanging up, now.

save all of my love, and give it to the poor when i die.

Nina Getachew

permanent marker.

he came here when i didn't want him. he stayed, even when i tried to wash him away. he stained my skin like permanent marker. scribbled sloppily over precious pages of my life. i've scarred and turned red from trying to rub him off.

he pushed his way into my thoughts and into my love. he slithered up my stairs and into my room. he lied his way into my chest. what a mirage of a man.

he loved me before i liked him. he loved me. he loved me. he stayed here. he showed up. he wouldn't go when i asked him to. he wouldn't be quiet when i needed the silence necessary for tuning him out. so i loved him back. because he loved me. because i thought he wanted to.

i loved him. i loved him. i loved him until he sat on the surface of and underneath my skin and thoughts. until we shared morning breath and small habits i am still fighting to forget. i bite at them with chipped teeth. i sing to stop myself from crying when i think of the pain. i cry because it doesn't work.

i swear, i don't love him. i swear, i don't miss him. i swear - i only miss the pieces of me that i left for him and he left sitting there. i could tell that abandonment wasn't a new sport, for him. i could tell he was accustomed to sweeping broken promises underneath area rugs and referring to the tears of torn lovers as raindrops. i knew. but i didn't. i should have been more careful.

i was never afraid, until i stopped loving him.

i was really happy before i loved him.

i'm still happy, but there's this crack in it.

i lost something back there.

i'll fill it's space with something even better.

boys and friends.

he said i was bad for him. i asked him why. this is what he told me:

cause see... your all "sad biddy"

and my hero complex will make me want to save you.

But your also not into being saved.

And your far...

and your fun (which will make me like you and not care that your far)

so yeah

chasing you is like...

i dont know..

bad for my health or something

three days deep.

I tried to cry myself to sleep. I'm still awake.

Day three of Ramadan. I'm indubitably in love with this month. When it leaves me, I think i'll suffer as if my lover is being seen off to war. I have to be honest, though. I've been left alone with my thoughts and feelings. I'm sad, and overwhelmingly lonely. I've prayed alone, i've eaten alone, i've made dua'a alone. I see others talking about friends and sisterhood and love. I wish I could borrow some of theirs. I want to pray with people that I care about, and several wonderful strangers. I want to cry comfortably, and for my heart to swell from happiness. I want not to feel so damaged. I haven't been able to shake this stabbing, throbbing loneliness ever since... Ya Allah, heal me and help me. Increase me in Imaan and nur and knowledge. Protect me from hypocrisy and apostacy and blasphemy. Save my family and myself from the fire. May our fasts be accepted and our sins pardoned. Ameen.

But, listen - I still feel like my life has been tossed and turned downward. I'm still hurting. It still stings like yesterday. Nothing can help besides my Lord allowing me to heal. I battle with this every single day. It makes my limbs tired and achy. My spirit has been battered. Pray for me, please.

old new news.

she asked me what needed to happen for her to fall out of love with him. i told her that she needed to fall back in love with herself, first.

then, i kissed her forehead and gave her some strength.

ramadan

it's rejuvenating, refreshing, electric.

if life was a desert that the soul was required to cross, this month would pose as the perfect oasis.

the togetherness, congregation, emotion, openness. i don't cry during prayer as much during any other month as i do during this one.

i feel even more genuine. much less worried. buoyant. grateful to be able to experience it, again. i pray harder. more frequently. my legs no longer feel like weights to be held up during salat. i want to give until i have nothing left.

they feel every day what i feel for a few. they always want what i usually have. the empathy is tear inducing. how dare i complain. ever.

umm.

i felt insecure as shit for about 20 minutes today. why, oh why, do we give this much power to other people? i am not accustomed to feeling insecure. at all. i guess the older you get, the more susceptible? maybe. i think it only happens with me when i feel like i'm not accomplishing what it is that i need to. which means that i got some work to do. i can turn this around, completely, in about 2 days. i just need to focus. ninja focus. *cuts eyes*

today is coreys birthday. i was gonna surprise her and take her to the cupcake boutique because i know she felt like nobody was going to do anything for her. she comes home with an ice cream cake that she brought for herself. i wasn't even mad. i feel her. i didn't see a single slice of cake or one burning candle on my birthday. guess what else? she is cooking her own birthday dinner. lawd. it's always the sweet ones. i have to figure out what i'm going to do for her that she hasn't already begun to do for herself. makes me kind of sad. i hope her friends make her feel special. i can't believe they are even allowing her to cook for herself, and them.

i miss my mother. i plan to leave for rochester on monday to visit her in her new home. i know she's bored. i want her to be happy. i'll pray for her and do african dances in her living room so she'll be entertained.

muffin is proving to be very difficult to potty/litter train. he keeps pissing on the floor. mama. i need help. she would know how to fix this.

i feel better now. a little. still a few small knots lingering in my shoulders and neck. i've turned my bubble guts down to a simmer. bismillah.

when nothing means so much.

it's cold. it's summer. i miss the heat and sticky salty sweet skin. i wish i was gone to a place other than here. i wish i could sell these feelings for profit. i hope they can be beneficial to someone. someday. i pray my children listen. i did. i want them to listen harder. more closely than i did. i want them to listen to me, and themselves.

i'm beginning to recognize the ways in which we trick ourselves into thinking that we are okay, when we aren't. rebounds and divorce parties. drowning in inebriation and lust spells. fucking strangers for screams and calling it love making. motioning through prayer with no feeling or good intention. holding back the tears to avoid seeming weak, when holding them in only likens you to a crumbling building made of brick. telling secrets to strangers who couldn't care less for you, and couldn't care more for themselves.

this blog is so disorderly. unedited. words missing because my fingers moved over the keys too quickly. because my mind moved over my thoughts too quickly. if i wasn't me, i would barely be able to read it without a headache being induced. whatever i said, i needed to say. whenever it came out, it needed to come. like vomit. still, undigested, rotten food. i read over it to remind myself of what not to do. it takes me back, and makes my chest tight. irreversible mistakes. i vent because i care. i'm too prideful to say what i wanted to say next. i'm almost back to normal. broken lovers know nothing of pride. if they do, they always catch a fleeting case of amnesia immediately after being crushed.

tell nina to keep going. tell her she'll be fine. tell her that i love her.

fuck these hoes.

honestly.

i know i'm right. there is no bright side. it is not okay. pieces of me permanently gone. it's happening, again. i can tell. how can it be that simple? that easy? like nothing ever happened. i really was left to deal with all of this on my own. ramadan, please come to me. now. i'm going to pray. and cry.

mamas heart.

my mama is sick, ya'll.

i cried in public yesterday. red eyes, snotty nose, loud and unattractive wailing. she has to have surgery, again. the last time, i was 19 and on my way to philadelphia. i was taking 4 summer courses and working. i was planning a wedding and trying to force myself to fall in love. the hospital she was in had become my home away from work and school. i couldn't leave her. she was married and her husband was barely there for her. what a phantom of a lover he was. nothing unusual from the weak ass niggas we've been dealing with for most of our lives. anyway, i cried then - to see my mother that way was very difficult for me. this time will be much easier. the doctors are different. her husband is different. i don't have to leave the hospital for class or work.

but i'm scared.

i love my mama more than my very own life. she is my hope, my proof, and the only person who has ever loved me appropriately. the thought of her not being alive makes me want to die. it makes me feel like my entire world would cave in on me. i'd see darkness and rubble and would feel no desire to be rescued. i'd make sure she was taken care of, and my brother would be top priority as far as emotional support. the thoughts are devastating. i would feel so alone. more alone than i've ever imagined.

praying. continuously.

here, now.

i've been crying for almost an hour, now.

i prayed fajr, and could barely breathe from the gasping. i try to muffle the sounds by contracting the muscles in my throat. i don't want to be hugged, or petted. i don't tear for attention. i went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. i leaned into the sink to eat up the hot steam running from the faucet. i watched my pain fall in the form of tears into the sink through blurred vision. i heard the sound of me choking. thoughts of death came to me. thoughts of relief and a nonexistent rest stop i've been chasing.

it's been harder for me to cry. lately, i've had to force myself. i know that i need it. i know that to retain the salty teary pain would only be harmful for me. i can feel myself closing up. secretly losing hope. whispering to myself that a girl can dream, but she always wakes up to the same world that she slept to get away from.

we are all so very fucked up. all in pursuit of love. to be loved. we chase it and kill parts of ourselves for something that is not meant to be chased. they forgot to tell us that we should have been more important to ourselves than finding love is. wait. they didn't forget. they just never knew for themselves. our mothers aren't with our fathers. our fathers are only there when we force them to be. when they find courageous moments where they can peep over the monstrous wall of guilt that they've built between us and themselves. a wall made of should haves and would haves. a wall held together by soon-to-be-broken promises and blame games. our lovers have become what our fathers were. weak. lost. multiple cases of an illness i'd call - lovers ineptitude.

i cried for our pain. i cried for what we've always wanted and have never experienced. true love can't be given or received in pieces. who made anyone believe that this was possible?

it amazes me how primary this pursuit of love is for us all. even the heart breakers and attention hoards are proof of our insatiable desire for love. it makes me sad to know that there are so many lovers who never intend to love the same way in return. who rob people of their love. curse the people who create a space in other's lives with no intent to fill them. leaving big gaping holes in the spaces that they were expected to pour love and life into.

i don't want to give up. i'm praying for my heart to be healed.

i need a gun.

i know how important love is.

to be loved, and to give love in return. gives life.

he is a bitch. he lies for attention. he doesn't know what love is, and uses the word so frequently. lord heal and help his fans and victims.

praying for my mama. she deserves a world, or two, of happiness.

i wanna be ready, but i'm not. i have nothing to be ready for, besides anything at all. the truth without anyone to tell it to. i don't want it. i have so much to do for me and myself. i took steps back when i took him on, and i'm still catching up to my expectations of my own self.

i'm opening and closing. i have nothing left to say. i have so much more to tell you.

i hope i say it right. i hope you understand. i hope i do what i hope to do.

if i didn't write it down, i promise i'd forget. intentionally, of course. then i know, remember and make sure not to forget.

bismillah.

3:10

for the past 2 days, i have been having these sporadic twinges of nervousness shoot through me. i feel like i've always been sure i would be successful at whatever i chose to do. i always knew i was capable of it. it takes a lot to admit that i've been doubting that during these twinges. asking myself what would happen if it all went wrong. i've arrived to a point in my life where i feel as if i don't have a safety net. i feel like if i fall, everything'll break. i feel like i can't fall. i also know that i'm human, and that it is a possibility. but some part of me is ruling failure out. it can't happen. i have to keep my eyes and mind open. i have to evolve. i have to move forward and press on. i can't wait, there is no time for that. as doors open up, i pray and walk through them. bismillah.

bothered. i can't be one of those women who live for marriage. they want marriage so badly, they settle for loveless ones. never. i live for love. might as well be dead inside if all you settle for are loveless relationships.

i pray that Allah blesses me to focus, stay focused, and to remember Him with and before everything i do. this stress and anxiety will turn to a story i tell my children one day. my babies. i'm coming.

3

i wanna remember pieces of my dream. i lost a few already, but i'll pull whatever i can.

we were all together, and a sexy italian man pulled up in an alleyway to kidnap didi. he grabs her like they just exchanged wedding vows, and she giggles. he threw her into the passenger seat of a red dodge intrepid from 99, and pulls off. she didn't fight the kidnapper at ALL. can't say i blame her, either. rawr.

there was another. jamila was in it. i haven't seen, spoken to, or thought of her too much at all lately. very random. hope she is okay. there was a masjid. we were somewhere else. i think i was falling in love or something. there was shopping. and cupcakes. i cannot remember what it was about, though. it'll come back to me.

i slept more than i have in a while today. i am about to pray for an hour or so, then i'm going right back to sleep. apparently, i need it. i'm exhausted. every time i wake from sleep, i feel sore. that must mean i need to rest.

when i woke up, i realized that i need to be out there helping. i need to go to a place where i can use my actual hands and words to do something. i don't ever feel comfortable donating money to these organizations, with their big fancy buildings and business trips. i just want them to know that love really does exist. i want to hug people who secretly need hugs, but are too afraid to blemish their image by admitting it. i will. inshaAllah.

pre-shower showers.

it's raining. rain is lovely.

i'm home. i feel irritation rising and creating warmth and stinging underneath my skin. people ain't shit. i still believe in them, though. i really do.

off to be productive with my day. i just wanted to publish, in my own words and on my own blog, that people ain't shit.

love me love you.

thought.

he didn't care about any of us.

he cared, but was too afraid to act like it.

he cared about me, and all of those other girls, too.

he cares, but doesn't know how to show it. still.

they all cared too much once i was already gone.

he knew everything, and pretended to want to be anything but all of those things. he let me fall, without extending an outstretched arm to help me up or dust me off.

"what are you here for, if you're not there when i call?"

just me, again. i'm okay with that. honestly. i'm always happier when it's just me. then there's this echo echoing off of walls somewhere inside of me, where love should be. i can feel it, hear it, see it when my eyes close. i'm not ignoring it, or pretending not to feel it. i just don't want to nurture it. i don't want to give it what it calls out for. i want to be with me. so there is this battle between what i want, and what my insides scream out for. i was made to love. and i do. just not in that way right now. i feel it, in a ball, on reserve, waiting to be used. a large, looming, floating, glowing ball of love. for some man, ready to have my babies, somewhere in my future. in my future. not here with me, right now. i made it this way intentionally.

i see them when i meet them. i see them when they slip up and open themselves up, showing me flashes of who they really are. who they'll really be once they think they have me. i turned it off with him. it won't ever go off again. i've learned my lesson. the hard way, for the first time in a while. i went against my own good advice. what a bad idea. and they all sound the same. they all give me the same looks. touching me with their words and eyes. kissing me from across the room, or street. no respect for physical boundary from them, no respect for inside boundaries from me. i wanna see what they think and feel and love. they wanna see what i cover up with my clothes and khimars. how conflicting. you are like a plastic pretty ken doll until i see and want your insides. i don't care what you look like, or what you have, or who else wants you. if you don't fit me, you shall remain plastic and nipple-less and without my love.

i have to learn to be more selfish with this love. i just have to. i understand the need that everyone has to be loved. i feel like nobody should have to be lonely. i can feel it when they pass me, how lonely they are. i want to love them all, and keep them company. i want to cry for them, because they are too embarrassed to. they don't want people to know that they have feelings. i know they do, because i know i do. i want to hug them, and leave them with pieces of me to keep them company when they close their eyes before the tears can come. i have enough love to give to the world. even the stray puppies and men. they are all so lost. i want them to be happy, too. sometimes, i want them to be happy so badly, that i forget that i need to be happy myself.

when you fly, they always tell you this: in case of emergency, secure your oxygen mask before you assist any other passenger. help yourself so that you can help others without killing yourself. my frequent flying comes in handy for more reasons than a few. there is a such thing as being too selfless. you can't give love until you have none left for you to live from. this requires so much concentration from me. even the bad ones, the ones who i know don't deserve it. i just want to pull them out of it. i want them to know that love isn't what they think it is. i want them to know that love isn't only the name of a night club they go to for lust mistaken for love. i need them to know that babies are not mistakes. i need them to know that it's okay to cry. better to, even. the women are afraid because the men are afraid. the men are afraid because the women are afraid. i want them to stop being afraid. feel without fear. i know it's possible. well, it was. i don't know anymore. i think they are too far gone. but as long as i live, i'll fight for it. i'll pull and tug them back into love and life. i can only do it if they let me, though.

the time has come.

so, i'm good.

i haven't cried in a week, which is a veddy long time with the way that i've been feeling lately. i don't get as sick as i use to. my heart doesn't feel like a broken tea cup that's been glued back together. it feels better. i smile again. i joke like normal. but i still have these moments. i remember, and see dark clouds. i let them come and pass, because pushing them away would only be delaying their actual coming. like a shot, hurry up and take it to get it over with. i still don't understand how and when love came to be this way. somebody somewhere started a love rape and drain fest. it created a domino effect. massive amounts of people confused lust for love. they ruined what it meant. they destroyed what it could have meant to those who hadn't a clue. we all have it, but there is this confusion that comes in when learning to channel and express it.

i had to do what i did. i'm sure he didn't mind. i'm positive he didn't care as much as i did. somebody will teach him one day. a day will come when he will be ready to listen. ready to learn. ready to accept the fact that he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. i just wish that it hadn't been me. it wasn't fair, it seemed. but it was meant, because it happened. i'll make better mistakes in the time that is to come.

i've decided that i'm sure that i don't really want to be single. i love being alone, though. there is so much growing and knowing of self while you are alone. but i can't ignore this other large part of me that was created to want to love. i don't want my love to go to waste. i'd rather wait for something great than to waste it by pouring it over all of this sewage mistaken for love that these boys want to dish out. but i wish i didn't have to.

lots of men are coming to me. i don't feel like expending the energy necessary for getting to know any of them. i loved that child so much. it drained me. i hadn't planned on having to do this again. i'm sure he already knew what it was. he probably hasn't missed a beat. that was such a big mistake. once i forgive myself making it, i'll be done with it forever.

healing/growing pains.

i've been kind of absent. partly because i have not been inspired to spill my guts all over the internet, partly because i felt ashamed that i have been spilling my guts all over the internet. i felt so open, and vulnerable. i felt like i sliced myself open and put it on display. exploitation, almost. then i thought about it a bit more, and realized that you can only feel the way that i felt if you are overly concerned with what others think and feel. i'm not. i was writing for me. it didn't need to stay inside of me. it was like spoiled milk and stagnant water. i needed to move it. it needed to be thrown out.

now i feel better. when i think of everything that happened, it still hurts something inside of me, though. sends a little twinge of anxiety through me. makes me want to run to the bathroom with imaginary sickness. but it's real, i'm not imagining it.

can i say, that i blame myself almost wholly? i do. i wasn't myself as usual. i was tired of being so excessively cautious. i was tired of projecting, and pre-calculating the next move. i was tired of being right. i was tired of pretending to be disappointed due to expectations that failed to materialize - when i never expected anything from them to begin with. i didn't react when craziness ensued, because i expected for those things to happen. i didn't need time to heal an attempted gun shot wound to a bullet proof vest. i finally allowed myself to feel without expecting anything but love in return. damn expectations. you know that team game they make you play in middle school, where you fall back into the arms of a team mate? the trust exercise. i feel like this was like that, but i fell on my ass. i'm still not, and never will be one of those women who walk around screaming I CAN'T TRUST NOBODY. senseless. you wouldn't have to trust anyone if you didn't give them anything to be trusted with. if you don't want anyone to know, don't tell anybody. if you don't want your feelings crushed, keep it moderate.

i pray that we all find a balance between being careful and living freely. i have faith in it's existence. i'm looking, ya'll.

i hope that nobody will ever try and critique my blog. i really do. i type what i want, how i want, when i want, by myself. lol.

my nerves are a mess. i can't believe i let this do this to me. ya Allah. heal me PLEASE! i won't do it again. inshaAllah. *sighs*

red.

so, i'm embarrassed. i feel so revealed. i feel as if i cut myself open with a kitchen knife, slowly and painfully. i feel as if i poured pieces of me out onto this blog, and it's too late for me to take them and place them somewhere else. i still feel like i should write about this, though. the process continues. i can't pretend like i don't feel anything anymore. i felt okay today, this morning. but every time i see something i don't want to see, my guts and intestines are tied into knots. formed into a noose. tied around my neck. no hanging, though. just the threat. i think the stress is changing the way that i look. i'm going to schedule a hair appointment tomorrow, just to see if it makes a difference. it won't, but i'm doing it anyway. i don't think i'll invite anyone else to my blog. i will just continue to type. if they stumble upon my pain, they may read away. i hope they know that this is only a small part of me, though. i am made of so much. and most people can't even see this part of me when i am outside of this place.

it's difficult for me to be excited. i wish that i was. i need to channel this massive amount of energy into my plan. ya Allah. heal my mind and body. bless my spirit. forgive them all. bless my mother and brother and our children - whenever they come.

i know what to do. run. not away. just around the city. me and my music. lovely.

tension coming back.

my neck is tensing up again. shit.

so, my plan backfired. i thought that the thing that is only making this worse could make it better. you know how, when people explain themselves it is meant to make the situation better? in this case, i think that the explanation only served the purpose of attempting to place the blame on me for not paying better attention. i was absolutely led to believe that this was headed somewhere good. he knows it, too. ya Allah, please clear my mind of this.

then he says that we can spend time together, NOW, to try and make me feel better. because he cares. if he would have done that to begin with, none of this would be an issue. i give up. my body is human. my mind is floating isolated in some parallel universe. i'm done trying to make these people understand.

ya Allah. please heal me and allow me to separate this process from the rest of my life. i don't want it to be visible. i don't want it to sit right beneath my skin. i don't want to think of this right after i say alhamdulillah when i wake. and i still need a massage.

meditation necessary.

fight.

i swear, everyday is like a fight between my heart and the world. the world is pushing through the doorway into my heart. i won't let it in. if i do, it'll be all blackened and dirty and cajun. like i let a load of reckless misbehaved children inside after a rugby game - and allowed them to continue the game on my new white carpet.

it amazes me, i mean truly amazes me, that people to whom you give love and other things can be so awful to you. i never remember what i have done for people, until somebody else reminds me. you can open your home, body, kitchen, and life up to people - and mean to offer them nothing but goodness. watch what you get in return. i can admit that i'm still a little hurt about the fact that i was so sick, and the people who were here when it was convenient/beneficial for them were nowhere to be found. not even a simple ass phone call to at least SEEM concerned. i was an absolute mess for 3 to 4 weeks. nothing. people i would have gladly nursed back to health - or at least comforted them through the pain if there was nothing i could do. even the person i was with spoke with co-workers more than he checked on me. then to rub it in? ya Allah. remove all awful people from my heart. forgive me if i am wrong. please remove the evil from them and myself. i pray that we can all eventually come to see our own faults, and become better thereafter. ameen.

what

did i miss? everybody saw it besides me. this is new. flaw. gotta figure this one out. good news is i should be past the aches by morning. a massage would be fucking heavenly. this summer i want to start my book. i have a structure and everything. some of what will be in the book is on this here blog. i need to blog more carefully. pick and choose what i shall give and leave.

stop loving destructive people. but never stop loving. ever.

purify your heart, intent, soul. learn, implement, pass along.

make love, make babies, teach them well, let them fly.

don't look twice at one who does things too far removed. keep going.

run if he says what he is, screams it at the top of his lungs, tells you that you're wrong, and does worse than that.

i miss my mother. so much. i have been trying to get to her for 3 weeks now. this is awful. ya Allah. bring my mommy to me. my soul needs her band-aid love.

dirty love cycle.

you faced the wall in your sleep

holding that pillow the way you use to hold me

the smooth and silent spaces between conversation

that once cradled me to comfort

have become convoluted and coiled

full of anxiety and thorny thoughts

scrambling for fitting words to fill the time before it slips away

we both know that arguments are no good in pieces

i notice that you sit 4 inches further from me on movie night

and that you pass the popcorn only once i can see seeds

what's even worse is that i hate popcorn, and i always have

when i turn away, i'm looking to see

if you still watch me when you stop at red and yellow lights

when you think i'm not looking

if you see me pretending to stare into space

so you can etch my face and know it

dream it when you sleep,

and see it in the spaces between your eyes and eternity as you stare

at the flashing hazard lights meant for warning oncoming traffic

pretending to be cautious to avoid contact

you drive me away

fearful of what you'll find

running from what could have been

before it ever happens

love is my milk.

imagine that i poured a cup of milk called love for each of my relationships. this cup was much bigger than any other before it, and was much more full. so full, it went without being consumed. it sat so long that the milk went sour.

the love milk gone sour is fighting its way out of my body. i feel it pushing through my aching shoulders and muscles. i felt my muscles tensing up in preparation for battle. it's finally happening. the painful passing. i won't talk about it any longer, unless they ask. even if they do, i won't have much to say. it just wasn't right. it just wasn't meant. he can't understand how i feel, he has never felt what i am feeling. he hasn't gotten there yet. who knows if he ever will. i pray for his sake that he doesn't. the knots in my neck have made their way up to my temples. my head is pounding. i have ibuprofen, but don't want to take it. i want to feel this. remember it to remind me to what i should never do again. i always tell myself. i usually slip up. i can admit when i am wrong. if i give i have to remember not to expect what is equal or greater in return. when i give, it should be out of obedience to my Lord. that's it.

there is nothing that anyone can say to comfort me. the only thing that helps is hugs. people trying to give me advice about moving on, don't know that i already have. my body is recovering. the pain became physical. there is no medicine i could possibly take, legally, to numb this. i'd rather bleed it out. take it like a G. it'll never happen again. i just need to figure this out. why this keeps happening. it's always different, but something about it is the same. brain dig in full effect. i wanna write a poem. coming doll.

faint.

if somebody asked me if i would date a popular artist, i would say of course - depending on intent, compatibility, and his ability to remain himself throughout all of the chaos of stardom. before this moment, i always said no. i meant it. the story always seems to be the same with them. on top of not being able to keep themselves from groupies and bad crowds, they don't trust that any woman can be sincere because they have been taken advantage of at some point in their lives. i think i could do it because i would not fall in love with a man through his art. most men are in love with their art, and can't truly love any other than that. i would love who i love for the soul behind the body. for the bodies abilities to interpret the language of it's inhabiting soul.

i always wonder, if love would have come before the art, would they have taken that as primary? i ask the same question for people walking down lucrative career paths. for some, worldly successes are easier to come by and stick with than love is. for some, love is much more accessible than a college education and start up money for a small business. i'm beginning to think that people pour all of their energy into the things that are more accessible. more safe. faint form of fear. some of those people walk around saying that they aren't afraid of anything. they just mean that they aren't afraid of anything they haven't already tried. i wonder if i'm one of them. nah.

lots of love and success to us all.

former undying love.

my ex sent a text to my mother this morning. i always call them formers, i hate that term - 'ex.' who made that shit up? i digress. so, she tells me he sent it at 6:41 this morning. he just wanted to let her know that he thought about her and her daughter. he wanted to know that we were alright. they spoke about his second child being on the way. he told her, to tell me, that his next child would be with me. just a period. no lol. why does he still love me? i left him, and didn't think twice about going back. his faults were the reasons that i left. he knows that. it amazes me that he still feels so strongly about me. i see it when i see him. i see it in the way that he avoids me. it hurts him to see me. i hope he doesn't cry. i always knew it was an awful thing, to be in love alone. now is showing me what it feels like, i guess.

am i a bad person for finding comfort in the fact that he still loves me so much? it makes me want to hug him. but i won't. it'll make him think we could work. and we can't. i'll pray for him until i die.

bird call.

i need my own beach. once, just once, i want to feel the sand and ocean up against my butt cheeks. that would rock my invisible socks.

i've never minded being alone. i always thought of it as being more simple than being in and maintaining relationships with others. it's peaceful. company is chaotic. sometimes, it's the most lovely form of chaos you will ever come across. body electric is beautiful. i've been told that living in my own world with no one but myself is selfish and simple. that it is the easy way out. if you ask me, either road that i choose is difficult and devoid of some form of fulfillment of human desire. if a middle path between the two actually exists, i'd say that is where i spend most of my time. i don't like being in the middle. i wish i could find contentment in one or the other. i know that i won't, though. i really feel as if i am just passing through. i wonder sometimes why i even take myself through all of these emotions and processes. i remember that i am being watched, listened to, tested. i remember that i can help others along their path. i remember that we were all put here, together, to be with one another. it wasn't a mistake. i am learning to embrace that, and make the best of it. i have to continuously remind myself to look past what is directly in front of me. i am trying to see the world before i touch it. i need to make myself believe that the places i have never been to actually exist. i need to know if they are more beautiful in my imagination than they are in real life. love is. i plan to keep it that way. my imagination is my companion and translator. it tells me of the world, and tells the world of me.

i have to keep going until i figure out why i am here. i know it is to worship - but there are so many ways of doing that.

i'm going. i have a flight. i'm exhausted. i'm not packed. grrr.

not yet, but i'm getting there.

i'm grateful. i remember praying that i could be in love before i die. i was. i never asked for specifics. i never said that i hope for us to be together until my death. i've never wanted to have any mans child before this. i feel like my prayer was answered. i was floating freely in love - even if only for a few weeks. the end is a glorious explosion of pain, guilt, and fire. i couldn't have imagined the bitter end of all of that beauty. i wouldn't have ever traded it for a basket of lonely. next time, i'll be specific in my prayers about my future love bug bite.

movement is good. this is better. i think. i love you.

medicine woman. [older shit]

i can heal you

i can help you to feel better

return moisture to your palette, make it wetter

dry from dry spells

you’re dizzy with sickness, I can tell

i can catch you when you fall, push you when you falter

you tilt and double over from pain, lean on me like an alter

i’m steady

i spit band aids from my lips, penicillin from my hips

i can heal you

sleepless I give you codeine

shake it up like protein…drinks

drink this holy water

tablespoons of black seed honey for your sore throat

just swallow

i promise you won’t feel the pain when you wake up tomorrow

just rest

close your eyes and let your body ingest

the truth is always spoken in jest, and I…was just joking

CPR when you’re choking

laughter heals too

kinda hurts when you have the flu

but I’ve got some black elderberry for that

it doesn’t suppress symptoms, it lifts them

natural solutions- bark, root and stem

they can heal you

i can help you

crushed leaves, teas with ginger

broth the flavor of warm in the cold of winter

arnica for bruises, aching from a cut or splinter

pop tablets ‘til its habit

it hurts, and I can help you

my lips diffuse some thing stronger than morphine

morphing your present pain into past

they touch and take the strain away

i touch and take the pain away

old shit.

he wrote me a poem. it wasn't very romantic at all. my response was, though. it's called 'burning.' here:


i just heard the most beautiful sound

made my eardrums drum with resounding speech

an echoing benevolent boom

so fervent it lit my fire on fire

set my capillaries aflame

drowned me in a toxic intoxicant

injected me with a paralytic venom

i have become as immovable as the temperament of a monastic ascetic

cemented to this spot, as heavy to myself as a ton of golden bricks

because he moved me

penetrated my impenetrable force field

simple existence forced me to feel

with no forceful exertion of effort

his soul told me that he loved me

i heard it with my fingertips when I touched his lips

the words needn’t leave them just yet

palms to chest give alms of flesh and love

pricelessly assist me through this place to the next

i rest my head on his heartbeat

it whispers secrets pounding loudly

it gave itself to me long before he could conjure up the clarity to tell me

incantation to conquer my hearts armor, and me

pierced my aversion like the broken hymen of a virgin

an arrow with a tip dipped in splendid golden sunshine

the cursed, naked and winged aimed for me this time

released his shot mouthing that the others were merely target practice

errors replaced with a hopeful maybe each time

hurdles in your path, you were always mine

cookie.

i'm sitting here, eating my oatmeal raisin cookie, thinking, feeling, sick. i tire of speaking of love sometimes. i really do. it builds me up, tears me apart, makes me sick, gives me life. sometimes i feel like i could die from the pain i feel from losing it. it has such a magnificent presence in my life. in my mind. even when i'm tired of it (now) i still can't seem to shake the thoughts and feelings. i will talk about it until i have nothing else to say. no breath holding, it might hurt you.

my stomach feels awful, because i keep seeing him in my news feed. commenting, promoting, showing love to everyone but me. responding to everyone but me. i think he loves facebook. facebook is torture. i hate it. it shows me things i don't want to see. yesterday, i go to my live feed. i see that he commented on some girls photo. i don't know why it was in my news feed, i don't even have her as a friend. what he said kinda stabbed me in the ovaries a little. i know he wouldn't have wanted me to see that. i know he didn't think i would. i wasn't looking for it, it just showed up at the top of my computer screen. shit.

lady bugs - it is not normal for a man you are with, and love very much, to leave you sitting alone at ANY event the two of you attend together. if it happens - just one of many signs that you need to haul ASS.

the only reason i'm a little on the sad side today is because i feel like i did this to myself. and because i don't understand how it could go from what it was, to this. how could you care that much, and then just not care at all? imperfectly human, i suppose. the both of us. i should have protected myself, and he shouldn't have pretended that he wanted to do it for me. let go, or be dragged.

frown.

no way.

so, i've found the perfect man. he has the perfect face, the perfect smile, the perfect family, the perfect spirit, the perfect body, and the perfect future. the only thing is - i'm not a part of it. crazy, i have NOT nor do i plan on pursuing this man. when i saw him, i didn't even think of there ever being an us. the thought never flashed its way through my mind. we all do it, us women. we meet a man, then try to picture courtship and whatever else could possibly follow. nothing.

here's the deal: he sounds like the male me. giving more than he should, sick from caring for others. those others not taking care of him, though he would do so if they were in a similar situation. genuine, happy - somehow. in love with a woman who runs from him to things less desirable. a woman who loves pain, a masochist. she chases it, and is running from him too. he wants to be loved, and she doesn't know how.

something inside of me is telling me that it means something. something outside of me suggested that it could mean something. her suggestion is the only thing that injected the thought of possibilities into my mind. it would make perfect sense. if i start to want it to happen, i think that it could. i don't want to want it, though. i love who i love, foolish as i may be to feel that way. i know we will never be together, he ruined that shit. doesn't change the fact that i don't want to share. i told him when he has a baby with another woman, i am going to shoot myself. i didn't mean it, but i could have if i meant with a camera. it'll hurt. it'll sting like 1 million paper cuts all over my body, and on my insides. i'll want to cut my hair off and watch it burn. love misplaced is a curse we put on ourselves. i know. it's not your fault. i'll forgive myself, one day.

suicide note.

to whomever finds my lifeless corpse

fully immersed under waters distant surface

pregnant with poignant poisonous pills

my mind lost within the slits on my wrists

searching for the life that left me behind

my blossoming possibility, plucked from this place, and i followed

he knew nothing of the world

i've lived here long enough

i have to tell him what it's like, what he missed

who misses him, and loved him before he could draw breath

i have to tell him what he was saved from

this murderous place

he died before a slow and painful death

before the life ahead could crush the life out of him

the warmth of my womb as his grave

the promise of his love, as mine

we have found eternity.


[i don't want to kill myself. it's a poem]

three.

my dream world cradles

pacifies reality

your real world shakes it

two.

flashing lights passing remind me to spotlights

they shine in through windows, onto me

everyone is looking, and can see my suffering soul

i can't stop thinking of him, and us

thoughts turn to tears, tears run to pillows

i am thinking myself to sleep - again.

one.

they always show up when i'm down

when i am experiencing what most address as a broken heart

when my love spirit is bruised and has been battered

former lovers of mine, in their minds

they love me without ever having to take my breath and light

they notice that i have two moles on my bottom lip

and that i love like a waterfall

they know that i'm not lying when i say what isn't true

they notice my outfits and love my eyelashes

they want to kiss me in all of the right places

and miss me when i leave them

they want me to speak and sing them to sleep

they want to watch me dream, and to see the sun rise in my eyes

they want to give me everything, knowing that i wouldn't take it

i tell them i'm taken

by a lover who loves me less

when he has all of me, all to himself

i can dream.

tonight, i thought about when i was 16. i lived as an orphan, even though i had 1 and a half very capable parents available to me. i was lost. i needed to be away from the places they were in. i stayed with someone, who requested that i do so. i was with her and her family for almost a year. i thought of this one time, when i was sad. i assume that i was moping. i had only been divorced for a few months, from a boy disguised as a man. i had been dragged through the dirt, and right to her doorstep. she looks at me and says "nina, are you sad? is that why you slept so late?" mind you it was only about 9:30am. i told her i was sad. she was being sarcastic when she asked me that question, and thought it was funny that i agreed. she rolled her eyes, then asked me when my father was going to come and get me, because i was no good to her if i was going to sleep all day. my father never came to get me, and i knew he wouldn't. he hadn't really bothered being there for me for most of my life. not whining about it, just saying what it is. she told me the only thing on me that was pretty was my face. she told me that i didn't need friends because they would only lead me down the wrong path. she told me that if i talked to a boy that i liked (that wasn't her son, of course) she would kick me out of her house because she didn't need that. whatever 'that' was. she told me that i could tell her things i didn't want to tell my mother. that was funny, there is nothing that i wouldn't tell my mother. even if there were, if she won't know, nobody will. she called me a thief, when i've never been anything of the sort. she said that pennies were missing from her grandchild's piggy bank, and i'm the only one who would have taken them. she told her son a secret i wouldn't have even told my best friend at the time. she ignored me for 3 days because i went out to the movies with my best friend and didn't get back into the house until 8pm. she said that she knew i was hanging out with boys, and that she saw one drop me off at the door. that wasn't true, but she ignored me anyway. everyday i did her job and cleaned her house, and never expected a penny nor hugs. she said i ran up her bills, but i never slept with the lights on. she said i was a burden, when all i spent my days and hours doing was lifting hers. i left a broken home, entered into a house of impending disaster, and walked away from that into mistreatment from the mother of another. i can only care from a distance. even through my forgiveness.

for us.

you have made a home of my memory

i pray that blowing at a brick house could cause it to crumble

i built it to endure tornadoes twists and turns

hurricanes of fire fiercely and forcefully burn

it was meant to emerge as any battles victor

the foundation was expected to be shaken,

water pressure from floods of tears cracking cement and bursting pipes

it was formed to withstand the attempts to be taken to tear it apart

blindly possessed by love starved hearts

still, i never thought it would be you

the neglect forms knots and noose around the neck you once kissed

stinging lashes with whips breaking skin of the back you once rubbed

you spit daggers from where you once whispered love songs

wounds gone putrid without treatment

left to rot like the bodies of aged slaves fallen ill

left to rust and tow away like a lifeless piece of machinery

i have been left to sit amidst a pain collectively formed

i have been left to deal with us, alone

shattered pieces of despair left for me to sweep up, and they cut

i still bleed for what has been taken from me

planted seeds and poisoned roots

ripping away at my insides, clearing out what could have been

parts of the part of my soul that loves have gone missing

i won't tell me where they went, i'm afraid i'll hurt me again

opening up my body for a body of destruction

i dove head first into a body of destruction

and called it love.

knots.

sometimes, when i finish washing my hair i tie it in a knot. the knot always lies on the crown of my head, and doesn't come out until i release it. most days, i have knots in my back - either from stress, or from bearing the physical burden of carrying my monstrous tits around. those knots spread to my shoulders, then to my neck. metastasize like cancerous tumors. i can't remember the last time i felt relieved, or relaxed. my posture remains erect, but i strain to keep it that way. i struggle to keep from slumping over and giving up. i pry myself from bed every day to force myself to live a life i am ready to change - drastically. i love like a waterfall, and they run like it could drown them. rob them of their supply of air. i wish somebody would take my breath away. they must not know what they are missing. why would you be afraid of what could set you free? people are afraid to be free. accustomed to being trapped, confined cattle. following behind one another like an assembly line. assembling the destruction of the hearts of beautiful brown girls. but i don't love with my heart, nor do i believe that anyone else does. we love with our souls, collectively. it is not something that you can learn how to do. it is something that you learn to express, but it's already built in there somewhere. we are all so afraid to express what we inherently feel, because of the way we've been treated. i have the typical sob story of my father not being around. i love him, but even more than that i pity him. he ran, like they always do. instead of making it better by being there, he made it worse by avoiding guilt. piling guilt on top of guilt. i can't tell if it made me better or worse, but if i had to guess i would assume it did both. it made me loathe weakness in men, but it made me feel as if i had no choice but to be strong. i wanted to be there for everybody, because nobody but my mother was there for me. the result: lots of leaning, no relief. this has been consistent throughout all of my relationships, this lack of support or being there. i give and give, but never receive the only thing i really want in return. sometimes, my chest is in knots, but those are knots i don't ever tend to tie. my stomach is in knots right now, the stress is moving inward. i am not afraid to love. i am not afraid of pain. i am not afraid to feel. i will not walk around pretending to be a numb robot of a woman, i don't care how many times i have to endure being called a cry baby. we were created with the ability to cry for a reason, clearly the ability doesn't fade along with being a toddler. my mother sat on the phone with me for an extended period of time, explaining to me that if i keep crying i will dehydrate. she told me to make sure i was drinking enough water, eating enough food. i'm not. i know i'm not. i'm not really hungry. thirsty either. i don't understand how they can treat us as if we don't matter when we love them so much. after all that i have been through, endured, carried. things that we should have been carrying together. ya Allah please protect me from taking all of this out on another man. so far, i haven't done anything of the sort. i pray i can keep the trend up. i know i can, because i know i'm fair. it's difficult to be fair in such a cruel and hollow world. they live for themselves, completely. i live to die. that's the difference. keep loving. keep going. you're still here, it all makes sense somewhere in the future. i just want to feel without having to expect to be crushed. maybe that's my test in life. i can take this if it'll take me to Heaven. bismillah.

bastardos.

i can't stop crying. i swear i would shoot them myself. ya Allah, where am i? they are like wild beasts, double inflicting pain and destruction. how dare they speak of Islam as savagery. they don't deserve that. may Allah punish them. i know they will be punished, but i'm praying that my prayer will only make it worse. inhuman, beastly, savage, awful, bastardly, dick headed, wanna be freedom fighting, terroristic monsters.

may Allah grant the victims the highest level of Jannah, forgive all of their sins, and ease the pain if they are still living. ameen.

hmm.

i'm sad. the part of my soul that loves feels like it loves alone. it doesn't, but the love coming in from the outside doesn't know how to channel itself appropriately. i hate being in love. it hurts. and nobody can match it. it's like when i'm alone, i'm alone. then it's like when i'm not alone, i'm alone. it makes me sad. its hopeless. maybe. maybe i should just give up. i have no idea what i'm doing, but i hate to admit it to myself or to anyone else. at the same time i know what i'm doing. i'm a walking, talking contradiction of a human being. my love is otherworldly and overwhelming and i should just spend my life giving small bits and pieces of it. but i don't want to. i want to love like a waterfall. drown you in it. and you better love it. but they don't. its scary for people to see something they have never seen before. it can be hard to swallow something bigger than your being. love is bigger. so big it hurts, splits me open like an over-inflated balloon that goes pop. i can't make my pain make sense to him, or anyone else. it's painful. i thought he would be the one to understand, but i don't think he wants to. i think he does, but he's afraid to. even worse, he is afraid to admit that he's afraid. walking in circles. crying in circles. i'm tired. good night.

3/15

i don't know a thing. only pieces of what i've gathered in passing. i wish i was smart. i must be by someones standards to have made it this far without trying, but i still fail to meet my own. i hate memorizing names. its awful i know, but i don't want to do it. i have to in many cases, but if it were up to me i wouldn't ever. i know faces, smells, textures, sounds. i know styles and similarities, changes even. they mean so much, names do. they say so much. but most of the names they tell me to know do not belong to very favorable characters. i want to learn all of the names of beautiful souls, and those promised jannah without even knowing that they deserved it. i wish i knew what they did, and that i could do it better. i wish i knew their faces, and their scents. i wish i could embrace them, and exchange pieces of our endless love for whatever we may love.

so, here's the deal. i'm grateful that not too many people read my blog, and for the fact that the people who do read my blog don't spend very much time with me. off i go: a lot going on, emotional flux and instability. indecisive, yes. irrational, no. i'm told to step into reality, as if there is any other place for me to be, and i say you're the worst. retort: 'your the f'n worst!!! you talking stupid!'. my reply: 'sweet.' apparently i am a mistake. i let it go, and instead of an apology, i am asked if i'm bipolar. nice, right? today comes, calls and texts go unanswered. facebook status says i'm on the plane, pray for me family. facebook gets more love than i do. my phone says nothing of the sort. even nicer. it is now 1:41am, still nothing. hasn't talked to my brother, hasn't told his parents who i am to him, silently insults me-possibly w/o realizing it. draws tears and blood and sad. i thought we had passed this. i don't like being upset. it makes me uneasy. this isn't my reality. this is somebody else'. it's so soon, too soon. if we love one another i should never feel excluded by you. period. guess this is it.

love, even through the bubble guts.

my baby.

i'm having a baby. not today, but one day. i feel too unstable. i wonder if that'll stop me. i don't mind the pain, i need it. i deserve it. i want it. that must mean eliminating it would be for others. kill me now. die in my sleep. i want to live. i wonder what it wants. i wonder if it wants. if so i want it. he is the love of my life. none of this makes sense. to either of us. don't ask me what i mean, i wouldn't tell you anyway. life is crazy, and explicit, and real. it isn't a painting, or an airbrushed photograph. if it was a photograph it would be like a polaroid. or a candid photo from a disposable camera. no changing, just dealing. if you don't like it, throw it in the trash. i want to keep it, even though i don't like it. even though i don't like it, i'm madly in love. i feel my insides burning and being ripped apart. i want to leave school. i want to leave my house. i want to stop paying a cable bill for shows that show up on a television that i don't even turn on. i want to leave the place that makes me feel like a martian. i want to be forgiven and blessed. i want to be loved for no good reason, but for very good reasons as well. i want to cry, right now. i feel it in my chest. something is stopping me from freeing it. maybe my body wants to keep my tears today. hold on to them, since i've been freeing them so frequently as of late. i want what i want, not what they want for me. FUCK what people think. they don't know shit anyway.

i'm so lost. you can't find me. i'll return shortly, so please don't try. not that anyone cares enough to come looking.

the tears finally came. i love you more than i love myself. this must be worse than suicide.

long sigh.

listening to mos def begging. it's an awesome thing to listen to. melancholy more than it is awesome, to hear the pain and tears and sincerity behind his voice. i love when a man isn't afraid to love who he loves. it gives me hope to know that there are men who openly express, defend, acknowledge, and respect their women. maybe one day it'll happen for me.

so today, i went to this forum at the university of pennsylvania. it was awesome. people were there, it was packed. performers were great, keynote speakers were very intelligent. the space was so small that everything seemed to be magnified. intimate even.

so i leave after maghrib to come home, and on the way i almost cried. i remembered that i said i would try and share my reasons for crying daily, but life is too busy for that. i can share tonights reason because it was so recent, and swept over me like a wave over a still sea shell. how can a person who says they love you, who has shared your space and time, who has gone into you in more ways than one, act as if you don't exist in your presence at ANY point in their existence? wouldn't that be difficult to do if they really meant anything they had said? i swear i felt a layer of ice freeze over my heart. the heat that formerly emanated from my chest has become floating ash and smoke. grope at it if you think you'll be able to save something.

done for now. maybe i'll open up later.

critique.

A Gathering of Myself: The Sprouting of a Poppyseed by Seff Al-Afriqi

This book allowed me to dabble in portions of your passion, painful memories, and love. It allowed me to peek into the peephole on the doorway leading to your perspective. You put the words that we use everyday together in such a way to draw tears, induce laughter, and to keep the most inattentive reader engaged. It contains depth, concisely conquers consciousness, and turns your spirit to stanza. I could take a paper cut if it were from this.

to purchase, go to www.blurb.com and type Seff Al-Afriqi into the search box. shameless shameful plug. toodles.

honest admission of being afraid.

i'm afraid that i've given too much of me. most moments i don't think of it this way. i usually feel as if i have only given pieces of me, on loan. but in this moment, where i am choosing to be honest with my blog and myself, i am admitting to being fully and completely conscious of the fact that i give too much of me. sad part is people don't even realize how much of me i give to them. i have some sort of disorder that prevents me from showing the ridiculous amount of love that i exude. they always feel it though. well, at least the hyper-sensitive ones do. sometimes some feel it a little too late, delayed sense of things. when i feel like i'm doing too much, and it isn't being reciprocated, i pull/step back. it hurts, honestly. to feel as if my love could never be matched. it's such a lonely existence.

i cry everyday. i plan to start recording what pushed me to tears from this day on. on until i stop recording it. it'll get old probably. i'll try and be consistent this time.

today: my chest is swelling. face grimaced and grinched up. lip poked out. nostrils flared. eyes welled up with tears that'll soon flow like water from a distressed spout. i hate being ignored by people that i would never ignore. that i couldn't ignore if i tried to. i want my heart back. they've started.

for the envious, and their evil eye.

you green eyed monster breathing fire under water

over-doused your evil planted seeds of doubt

extinguish conflagrant flames before ignition

tried to burn me and boiled yourself

whistles sound of tea kettles

begging to be removed from the eye, you are finished

tip you over, pour out your problems

drink them to flush defecation

the heat of hate burning its way through my bowels

your clogged toilet bowl of a mind

contains bodies' waste that enters with no exit and lingers

putrid, i smell it on your breath when you speak

the vicious vice of envy makes a varus tongue

choke on your obstructing words

leave those eyes a lifeless hue of green

smh.

i watch and i see.

you only pretend when you have something to hide, or if you're being paid for it. so you must be hiding something.

if you show everybody around more love than you show me, it must mean that everyone around is more loved by you than i am.

if you do something that hurts my feelings in order to spare someone else's, that persons feelings must mean more to you than mine do.

if my name is always mentioned after somebody else's, someone came before me. i was after first, not first-which is where i need to be in order to be with you.

what's even worse, is that you don't realize it. your insides are talking, telling me where your interests lie.

i wish i was respected as a writer. everyone loves my shit, if they care enough to take the time to read it. you don't. my offers to edit go unused. like a coupon on a date that you're too embarrassed to use.

there is a crack somewhere in my force field. i'm letting the pressure in. i'm letting the speculation in. i think i am experiencing intimidation for the first time. i think i feel speechless, thoughtless, loveless, empty. feel, just a feeling. at this moment, and a few others. i know i'm not any of those things, though. just this new thing called insecurity talking; i think thats what this is. i know i bleed/sweat/cry cups of awesome, spilling over the brim that could never be high up enough. i am glitter, gossamer, gloss, sunbeams, sunshine, the hope and help at the end of the yellow brick road, the kind of love that makes hearts bleed with this over-sized/over-worked blood pump pumping in my chest. the lover that gives too much, without my lover knowing. undercover over-lover that can't recover because i won't be able to love if i do. recover what was never lost? i didn't lose more than he did. giving up some of me always seems to be too much. i cry for me. not for you. i cry for what i allowed myself to do to myself by being here. staying here.

i just realized that i am between selves. i'm being pushed by the old me, and pulled by the me that is to come. its painful. confusing. my wilderness inside of me. hope i don't have to roam for 40 years before i'm free. freedom. funny. i was put here. made this way. creation of the Creator to serve my purpose of worshiping Him. if loving you isn't worship, then what am i doing it for? good question nina. you are so confined by conflict, you allow your body to do what your minds know you shouldn't. blocking out the sounds of screams of warning. run, nina, run. but you don't hear me, do you? you will, the echoes of my screams will bounce off of the vibrating walls of your subconscious until they reach you. hope it isn't too late when they do.

sex me.

vibrators, a 'massager,' the big rubber ding-a-ling: problem. sex has become so impersonal, so absent of the love it should require, so synthetic. all that people want is the orgasm. people have become so focused on the cataclysmic ending of sexual interaction, they have forgotten about actually interacting. so much so, they don't even require an actual person anymore. in my humble opinion, the person should be the best part. i have had two vibrators in my lifetime. both of them sat for extended periods of time, until i eventually became repulsed at the sight of them. i threw them in the garbage. my vag requires a person in order to feel anything. a completely like-able, lovable person. arms, toes, fingers, eyes, mouth, mind. toys can't tell me i'm beautiful. they don't love me. they are devoid of feeling, just like most of the people who use them regularly. porn, vibrators, frequent masturbation (alone), sex with complete strangers, sex being a forethought/goal in daily life: ALL GARBAGE. i feel how i feel, and i am not even a little apologetic about it. they transform healthy humans into creatures of carnal desire. they encourage/push along our desensitization. nobody wants to feel anymore because if they did, it would hurt. drinking, smoking, drug usage. all to avoid feeling. we were created to feel. don't run from what you were meant to do/be. love as much as you can love. don't waste time being vindictive. those dummiebags will get what they deserve eventually, and destiny will dish it out much worse than we possibly could. okay i'm digressing.

make love. boom pow wow.

focus, girl.

i have a major headache. i wish someone would come and rub my shoulders and make me tea. the yummy Ethiopian kind. i wanna dance. i wanna sing.i wanna pray more than i wanna do both of those things. i should be more intelligent than i am. i am more intelligent than i am. this is an awful time to have a headache. i have papers to write. i have to stay up writing them. i have to come up with 4 final project topics. i have to order a book, read it, and write a paper on it in less than 2 weeks. i feel like my boobs are so heavy that they pull on the muscles in my neck-strain. even with a bra on, the straps leave bruises. i can't win. you probably don't need to know that, but you won't because your're not actually reading this. how do you tell someone that you want them to eliminate the possibility of the two of you being together and learn to be a friend? a friend ONLY. i did, but i don't think he cares or payed me any mind. i could blame myself, but i won't because i'm not at fault. i could knock this paper out of the stadium in a few minutes if i wasn't suffering from a massive headache. grrr. okay, enough rambling.

love.

i got that WORK.

so much to do. i would say so little time, but i have enough of that to do what i need to do. i just don't manage my time very well. i can admit that i don't. right now, i should be reading the first of many scholarly journals on a theoretical definition of religion. there is no clean cut, general, simplistic definition for religion. i love to read about the way that people perceive it, though. i wonder if i will ever write a scholarly paper on anything. i guess you could say that i have. i wouldn't say that i have though. my favorite paper was written overnight. i want to write a paper that took me weeks. i want to turn in a paper that i've read and edited at LEAST 5 times. i'm tired of the way that i expect things to be good without exerting any extra effort. imagine the possibilities. i'm a bum. grrr. i have to force myself to work my pootie tang off. gosh i hate typos.

i read ingredients, love raw spinach, want some cinnamon apple sauce, miss him, love them, love me most, LOVE my Lord, humbled myself by bowing down in prayer, wishes i could stay there to remind me of whats coming. i don't want to have a moment to forget, forgive me please.

i'm working on developing a sense of consistency. i want that to be a characteristic/attribute attributed to me. attach it to me, after i attach it to myself. okay i'm off. over-thinking makes me hungry. no good on a morning while fasting. long day ahead. love.

feel. why?

friend: now that you've chopped, diced, and sauteed my emotions, how are you?

me: ready to float away to some higher form of being
im tired of being a human
this emotion thing sucks

friend: i can relate to that
i have been using my logic for a while and not emotions lol

me: but its there
can't ignore it forever
i did it for a while
but i have too much love in me to ignore


this is a piece of a convo that i held today. i FEEL, indubitably, and i would never deny any parts of it. i avoid it though. i don't like the fluctuation. it makes me feel nauseated. roller coaster of love, maybe? but i like roller coasters. at least i thought i did. maybe i just don't like this one. yeah, that's it. i wanna float away. i'm done with disappointment, though i'll be dealing with it again very shortly. i'm sure of it. this is why its always safer not to have expectations. but i'm human, it happens. its not the end of the world. and if it were the end, the issues at hand would NOT be at the top of my list of things to worry about. i guess this is it. i guess its just me again. i love you love.

buh-bye!

when where how why.

epiphany: i lost me.

close my eyes, head tilted back. tears trace my face and run down my neck. travel down the canal beginning in between the meeting of my breasts - continuing south by way of my torso. i'm going down, following my tears. they take the lead. i know next time to take heed. so lost i'm following excretion. tears will dry, but me? i'll still be here; looking for something else to follow if i don't find me around here somewhere. i'm so close i can taste it. time to years wasted and i can't get it back. give me back. did i even put up a fight, or was it easier to just let me go? why would you want to be anything other than who you born to be? royalty in your blood, composed of east African heat. you bleed fire. 13 months of sun shines through you. your body can't even contain you, you walking furnace set aflame. light transcends, from your blood through your skin - you're glowing a brownish hue of red. i see it, you're coming back. i'm calling you, and you hear me. i missed you. no miss because i see you. you're here so tread lightly. it makes them uncomfortable. you're otherworldly and they see it but they don't know what it is. they call it strange. they push you back to push you back into a shell that doesn't exist. don't go, you won't know where to find you because you belong exactly where you are. stay here. with me. i've been so fragile without you. when you left you took the sunshine with you. i had to use a night light with a flash light to find my way to this place alone. i've been forcing myself to pretend like i could do it on my own. i was in denial. i thought i was you. i thought i could be for the both of us, but i can't. i need you to keep me company for the rest of my life, they will never get it. i don't care that i sound crazy, now that you're here you've saved me. just by being present. present. big beautiful bow on top. i've finally felt those mysterious tears of joy.

when/where: i lost me in july of 2007. amidst (reluctant) wedding plans, relocation, transferring to temple university, discovery of my mothers potentially fatal heart issues, taking care of her, taking care of my brother, summer courses, a job i couldn't stand, maintaining my perfect G.P.A., and finding the time to be myself. actually, i didn't - which is a part of the reason i lost me. i was freshly 19 years old, and in love with myself. not in a narcissistic/vain type of way. not like the little girl in The Little Princess who wanted all of her friends to watch her comb her perfectly long and blonde hair. not at all. it was a deep, internal self-appreciation. i saw me, and i loved me for who i was. it was a lonely/loved existence. i had my light to carry around with me wherever i went, until i allowed it to be doused. i woke and carried out daily activity with the only purpose being to please other people. i didn't want to give anyone besides myself a reason to complain about anything i had done. that was my objective without me even realizing it-until now. i left GA for Philadelphia, even though i didn't really want to. i married a man that had this senseless obsession with me, even though i knew i couldn't return the favor. when i think back, i feel as if i used marriage as a survival tactic. it's not something that barely ever happens. women do it far too often, and wonder why they fail to find the mate their soul so ardently desires. i was determined to attend TU, and i knew that living arrangements would be an issue. i whimsically agreed to marry, much to his delight, and so it happened. we had a wedding in a hall filled by strange faces for my world. their smiles were so eager, so questioning, so curious, too happy. so happy, in fact, that they couldn't have been happy at all. how can you look so happy to see a person you have never seen previous to the moment at hand? some longing of yours must have been fulfilled when your eyes met my face. could it be that the thirst of curiosity was quenched? that would make sense. i was, after all, the girl who married the guy that you grew up with when your best friend baby sister cousin been asking about him for alllll these years then he go to the south or somewhere and find this girl where is she from anyway? right? politely, i smile. i play the part. fill the role. be sweet, as you naturally are, to a room full of people who only care for today/right now. pose for pictures, as you do, for cameras that only flash to show others what new news they have seen. cameras click to capture the gossip that their lips are incapable of telling. i'm sure that somewhere, in someones recycle bin full of photos they didn't really care to save, lies a digital image of my agitated smile and exhausted pose. i'm sure somewhere across the city of Philadelphia, or across the surface of the ocean, someone was bragging about how they participated in the making of the dress that i hated. it made me look fat, which induced tears that screamed you don't want to do this. of course i couldn't deny the seamstress the pleasure of seeing me wear it,though-she had worked on it for hours. i couldn't complain about the decorations either; the ones she hired her best friend to take care of, of course. if i would have uttered a word about how grotesque and unsightly the venue was, i would have been the most ungrateful bride in the city. shame on me for having an opinion/preferences for MY wedding. what on earth could i have been thinking? so i said nothing, and contained my unhappiness about everything in order to maintain the pleasure that everyone else was experiencing on my behalf.

i remember calling his mother, his wondrous spirit of a mother, and telling her that i didn't want to do it. we had 3 more days until the wedding when i did that. she told me she understood, but suggested it could have been cold feet. i cried and dismissed it as that. we both knew much better, though. i love her for understanding me, and for being who she is. the relationship that we developed was completely detached from the man that i had married, and i will never cease to believe that she is one of the things that i had to gain from all of the pain that i experienced within that period of my life. i remember feeling like my heart was about to fall from my chest and into the boiling pit of my overly acidic digestive fluids when i saw my sick mother, fresh out of the operating room, struggle to climb the stairs of the home of her hostess for the weekend. she sat in a car for 12 hours, when she should have been in bed propped up on pillows. i couldn't afford a plane ticket, and even if i could have it would have been too much pressure for her damaged heart. i want to cry just thinking about it. was i that desperate to avoid being the bad guy, that i would push my mother to travel prematurely? i guess i did that to the both of us. i feel like her love for me almost killed her, twice. when i was born, and to attend the marriage ceremony of me to a man i knew it wouldn't last with. i'm a criminal. my insight wasn't my tool for attempted murder, my inability to communicate it was.

i was married. i had moved. i started school. i was alone. i was away. i missed my family. i was sacrificial. i was sad. i was lost.

how/why: i had convinced myself that i would never meet my true match, because what i had conjured up and called a man couldn't possibly exist. what i wanted was so simple that it was complicated. so i figured i could marry someone who loved me more, and be happy enough with that to deal with the ills that came along with it. our goals and aspirations seemed to be in alignment, so i could manage to tolerate the rest. right? the problem was the question mark. my deeper self knew that he wasn't what i wanted or needed. i'm almost positive that i had become weary of saying no all the time, as well. i felt as if i needed to give someone a chance. i took giving something a chance much too far. i put my future in the hands of another. i let a group of people who were barely concerned with my happiness indirectly steer me toward the direction that was best for them. what's worse is that their satisfaction was only momentary. him and i, are still recovering from that bloody battlefield of a marriage. well, i am at least. before you can truly recover from something internally intangible, you have to want to do so. he is suffering from love, i am recovering from pretending to love. both are traumatic in their own rights. long term recovery necessary. i continued to pretend and he continues to love me. i love him for loving me, but still not in the way that he would like. he would be crushed if he knew how i really felt. i think thats what kept me from telling him. thats what kept me from telling anyone. i stopped loving me enough to stop doing things that were best for me. i stopped caring about my mental/physical/emotional health to please others until i realized that i was in the hospital due to stress. i gained so much weight i didn't even recognize myself anymore. what's even worse than that, is that i was so consumed by my unhappy bug that i didn't understand why i looked so different. i picked up over 50 pounds along the way without even realizing it. i was gone. i held onto something my heart and mind had never grabbed on to. it was injurious.

okay this is the longest blog entry ever. i'll put the rest in my book. love you love.

pre-nap confessional.

i run. i go. i'm human, so all of these things make me feel tired. sometimes tense. i feel a nap coming on. i just have to get something off of the surface of my heart really quickly. i would hate to die in my sleep and for it to go without being said. this girl and her writing just made me cry. they weren't surface tears. they were from that spot in between my stomach and my chest. trachea tears. the ones that hide under my heart for safety's sake. i can do that. i can write that way. i do write that way. when nobody is looking. she sounds like me. she is writing what i feel. i'm upset because i didn't write it down too. i feel like i limit myself to the places that i can see. no, worse. i contain myself by writing and not satisfying even my own standards. i have become more simple with time. less expressive for the purpose of helping others to understand. to become easier to relate to. when that is never what i wanted to do. i love me. i loved me. i lost her. i want her/me back. come back to me. i'm here.

*gasp*

as gay as this sounds, this woman is my soul mate. i'm sure she will never see this, so i feel no shame in publicly posting. lol. read this. its me, articulated.

poem eleven
-

for women who are 'difficult' to love.



you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn't you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can't make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

-warsan shire

when i write, assume. i really don't leave the audience a choice besides to assume. i write as if i don't have an audience, when the audience is actually intended to be myself. myself is expecting a few intruders, so i've been warned to remain on the discreet side of story/plight telling.

anyway, when i write and you choose to read, bring your biases and preconceptions. bring your intuition and your fabulous luggage to use as references. ponder with your presuppositions. i don't really give you a choice; i speak in the human code. former behaviors, things sound and look familiar because of the simple fact that they are. people repeat themselves. people are just alike, though they spend their entire lives attempting to distinguish themselves. you'll be alone, and feel alone; but you'll never actually be alone. reality is full of contradictions. truth is too. that seems like it doesn't make sense, but it really does. truth is multi-faceted. truth varies depending on where and whom it is coming from or being interpreted by. truth is open ended, but clear/concise simultaneously.

done with the recording of my rant for now, but it persists in my mind.

i just wanted to share, before i move on to the inspiring everyday activities that life bring (laundry), that i HATE cigarettes. there is also a strong disdain in my chest for the people who smoke inconsiderately. if you chose to inhale the poisonous smoke of death with a stink that stains your hair and clothing unmistakably, then by all means...proceed. why, oh WHY, do you feel the need to subject innocent, by-standing, unwelcoming faces to the putrid odor of your rotting insides through the exhalation of the carbon-dioxide laced GASES? WHY?! ugh.

and i'm off. peace & love.

what is love? does the fact that i ask that question prove that i need it? or just that i want it? or just that i want to know? hmm. bye.

too late for excitement. early, rather.

AHHH! i found my new favorite writer. seriously, this is a VERY pivotal moment for me. Anais Nin. she is AMAZING. she is exactly what i aspire to be as a writer. i have to read everything she has ever written. her work speaks of me, to me. i swear, i can't even begin to explain the way that i feel. i know it wouldn't be obvious to anyone who was actually looking at me right now, but i feel it is all that matters. off to bed now dahhhling. i have to arise from slumber very early in the morning. lots of reading to do. fun. toodles.

guess.

if only i could live in a world where it wouldn't be considered a weakness to care more than another. few eyes have the privilege of seeing that it actually takes more strength than weakness to be caring continuously. the weakness comes in ONLY when you allow your kindness to be taken advantage of. only when you allow yourself to become a door mat. there is a difference between being caring because you are genuine and loving, and being nice because its easier than standing up for yourself.

i've discovered, over time, that people like to be mistreated. they prefer to be yelled at, cursed at, harshly spoken to. they prefer to be ignored over being minded. they are attracted to those who pay them no mind. they mistreat the people who they know are loyal to them. i don't get it. it will never add up or make sense. there is a flaw in the equation. a flaw of character. whats sad is that this flaw is so widely distributed. was there a secret class that i missed the memo for? or is everyone playing copy cat and being impressed upon by their incapable comrades? the list of questions could be endless.

seems like every time i decide to love someone, i live to regret it. i never make it to the threshold leading to this alternate realm called 'being in love.' if i considered myself to be a hitchhiker en route to such a place, it's easy to suppose that i've been traveling down a closed road. or a deserted one. maybe, just maybe, i've been bypassed and not picked up. friends would say that i fanned the drivers away as they pulled over to offer me a ride. i'd say i didn't hear him because he didn't speak loudly enough; or that he had tinted windows. besides, i would never hitch a ride with a man of questionable character. have to check his plates, how clean his car is, engine light, how close the tank is to E, whether or not he looks like a pit stop rapist.

it's crazy that i'm comparing finding love to hitchhiking; but if you ask me, both are taking a pretty weighty chance. chances with your heart, chances with your life. i could just play it safe and keep walking. when i think about it, though, playing it safe will only leave me tired, parched, and alone...until i am forced by circumstance to stop. death. life passed me by in passing cars, and i kept walking. i don't want to have that thought. i don't want to harbor that regret.

so i thought i was sure, but now i'm not. i do love him, indubitably. but i feel like something is different. just that quickly. something isn't right. something isn't being said. he's avoiding it, i'm looking out for what it could be. intuition kicking in like the hind legs of a horse. i can't shake it. i wonder exactly what it is. exactly what pushes them to this. i'm everything, then i'm nothing. as soon as i disappear they want it back. i think i know what it is, but i don't find assumptions to be very favorable. i don't want somebody to be here just because they promised they wouldn't leave. i want somebody to be here because they actually want to be here. i understand that most people have no control over fluctuations of emotional inclination, but i wish that they could at least be honest.

it would be lovely if i didn't have to play the guessing game. if i didn't have room to make assumptions because i had people in my life who knew how to communicate. the sad part about it is, i'm almost always right. damn.

ya Allah, please increase me in imaan & strength. ameen.

i just had a moment.

i thought about my first time. i almost had a panic attack. i cried. i wasn't ready for that, for any of it. nothing good came of it. he didn't deserve me. he didn't deserve that. i never thought of it much until now. i never cried until now. i never feared for a girl losing her innocence prematurely as much as i do now. i never feared for a girl being inflicted with so much unnecessary pain until now. i never feared for her mistreatment as much as i do now. oh Allah, please protect my babies. ameen.

no words.

so, i am having a really hard time dealing with something. maybe i am being dramatic, but in my mind it's totally worth the energy being exerted through my over thinking. call me crazy, but i feel love. not the scary kind. not the run and hide kind. not the i shouldn't feel this but i will anyway kind. its the kind i want to feel. clean. i feel like we are both smart enough to understand whats happening here. i'm sad because i feel like it can be worked out. i feel like he doesn't share my optimism. i feel like i miss him already. i feel like i don't want this to be it. too much is right for it to go wrong. for it to be wrong. i can't sleep because i feel what he feels. already. i bet he's sleeping. i bet he isn't. then there is the bigger issue. though i have yet to attain my crystal clear clarity, i already feel like our individual beliefs will remain in opposition. you can never know too much. don't be afraid to hear what you don't want to hear. you cannot possibly be sure when you're unsure. the definition of innovation IS multi-faceted. bismillah. tears. strength. i wonder if i'm the only one who cares so much. no. *sighs* . i'm out.

fever.

so, i have a serious fever right now. my face feels like it is burning from the inside out. my head is pounding. i can feel/hear my heart beat. ohhhh, what fun.

i think i'm developing a different type of fever along with it though. i don't know whats happening in my mind or heart, but i see a projection of the possibilities. something is whispering about someone. this is strange. i think i'm going to erase it. its too much for me. i can't talk about it yet. i'm not ready to. but something is spouting. AH! weed killer, weed killer! go away!

i think i'm gonna write a poem, and call it fever. lets see how this one comes out. apparently i'm a love poem kinda girl. i'm best at those. i got the heart for it. poww wow owww!

night loves.