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.