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.