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.