My mom is a crack-fiend.
School is pointless. 10-page essay on John Nance Garner. He's old white & dead. Spanish quiz on Wednesday. I learned to conjugate verbs last week, but I still couldn't find the words to tell that Mexican to stop coughin next to me on the bus. My American Government class is cool, I learned about checks and balances n stuff. The system is still fucking me in the ass, I owe them checks n balances n stuff. I don't know how to get ahead in the world, or speak out against unjust politics, or survive in times of a plumeting economy. But, I learned how to write in MLA format. You should be proud of me, I paid a good amount of zeros for that. My dorm room is 10 x 10. Feet? Of course not, sweety, that would be too luxurious. Surely inches. Its missing padded walls tho. Make-up and hair products all over my bathroom sink, but I still don't feel beautiful enough. I fucked him last week, but I still don't feel beautiful enough. And the week before that, and the week before that. He went deep too. Sweaty. I held the back of his neck and dug into him with my acrylics. I need a fill-in. He filled my void and when he moaned all was right with the world in those 23 minutes. Make that 25 if you count the foreplay. "The pussy was amazing, but dont tell nobody". But thats beside the point. I got her intitials tatted on my wrist, but that only gives me more of a reason to slit them. This woman who I called my mother, but it was the opposite. she was living for me...because of me. As if I carried her in MY womb for 9months and gave her nourishment through the umbilical cord that MY body created. "if it wasnt for yall I wouldnt be here". Well, mom, thats an oxymoron. Its quite the opposite you see. "What that mean ?" It means you were the one who fucked that carribean dude, whats his name again? Groovy or some shit. You concieved me. He got deported but you where there. You were the one who spent hours trying to get my head through your twat. You were the one who gave me the six letters that comprise my name.. If It wasnt for you, I wouldnt be here, but thats beside the point. Youre slowly deteriorating. So, being the over-analyzing female that I am, I take that as my sisters and I werent enough to keep you here. Arent enough. If it wasnt for us, you wouldnt be here...but youre not. That crack shit got you captive, and I don't have enough for the ransom. Though you physically exist to me I don't know where you are..or who for that matter. And because you are a huge part of me, im starting to forget who I am. Or maybe I never really knew. Fake smiles and a mean wardrobe. Lots of weave. But only that good shit. Them koreans keep my cuticles cute. Blackberry, ipod, leopard print uggs. They not up on these. Stay wasted. Forever stoned, plus she got the keys to that 2-family brownstone. On some smoove Cosby shit, she living it up. They know who I is. Im a bad bitch, Im a, im a bad bitch...All the material things start to fade tho, like eye liner under a tear drop. Im broke as fuck and now I'm really confused. Without the layers of bullshit I'm unsure of whats really there. Fianah? Fuck is that? Reality Ali'd me, & nobody believes me, shit aint covergirl over here, shit aint fuckin easy breezy. Its hard out here, but I aint no fuckin pimp. Some would call me a slut tho, just by the numbers of men, or boys I should say, to whom I gave the pussy away. But I swear I wasnt smuttin tho, just trying to find the right guy who loves me for whats inside, satifies me emotionally, physically, and spiritually a heavenly reflection of god and the father I never had, and every time I rode the dick, i thought I got one in the bag. It was never there tho, they just wanted to stab it. Plus I threw the pussy at 'em like daddy, you can have it. But thats beside the point. On another note. I'm fat. Overweight, the doctors say I'm morbidly obese. Because im 5'2, crazy thick, with a whole lot of meat. He like, "fuck what they say baby girl, you just healthy." But all this health is not gon help me get wealthy. You never seen a bitch at the top with stretch marks, a double chin and thighs that rub together. Blasphemy. There hasnt been one before, wont be any after me. Unless she's singing, or cooking, or doing stand-up for a living. Im a lazy fat fuck, I couldn't stand up for a living. Besides. I have no identity, according to you. Im just a big girl. Dont try to be cute. Don't dance at the club. Just sit in the back. These niggas not off you, these bitches only bring you around to look smaller. Dont wear nice clothes, watch your smart ass mouth. Youre supposed to be jolly all the time, like that pillsberry dough nigga. With all this meat tho, that STILL aint me tho..But thats besides the point. Shut the fuck up and do something about it. Easy for you to say, you have goals, goals that are confined to this earthly existence. I had goals, but that was before I started to think. Thinking is bad for you because it helps you realize things. Things that would have been more productive had they not have been thought up... Like what is it all worth? You work, you get your degree, you get a job, maybe money, a lover if your lucky, some kids if ur unlucky, and then you die. You lose some weight, but now they don't like something else. Now they don't like ur skin, you spend your life trying to change that and then you die. You make friends, they decieve you. They talk about you. They keep you occupied tho, until you die. You try to live your life without sin, you go to church instead of that party. You pass up all the fun gaurenteed things in life like sex, weed, and greed for the just possibility of something better.. but then you die. And every day I pray it is, but maybe it wasn't worth it. Oh shit, life after death is really just a black hole. I shouldve put down that bible did drugs & fucked mad Hos. You try to be happy n shit like that, but they wont let you. So you won't let yourself. You spend your whole life trying to please them, trying to follow the rules, trying to reach a trivial goal or two...and then you die. Whats the point? Im not suicidal or anything, just thinkin.
But thats beside the fuckin point.
you should
write a book .
girl . i loved this blog . i feel you on 50% of the shit . specially bout the weight problems =/
5 stars on this one.
man, i'd say you just don't know. but you do. glad you posted this fee. perfect timing for me.
once i started reading i couldnt stop. i agree with harley. ur words r addictive. u should write a book.
thanks for reading ya'll! <3. I wanna write a book, but then again, I know how much of a procrastinater I am. It'll never get finished. =\
this is the type of stuff worth re-reading. i love your artistic mind girl. glad to be a follower.
Wow, that was amaazingg. Go girl!!
"Youre supposed to be jolly all the time, like that pillsberry dough nigga." LOL.
I enjoyed reading this..will read it again soon cuz I had to scan through it right quick.
wow. that just fell in tune with my day.
i loved it.
Mannn.
This was amazing.
i relate to some of things you said, the school thing, the weight thing.. yea. you struck one of my cords :)