the I is never silent - An (r)evolutionary heartbreak.

 “CHANGE YOUR REACTION TO PEOPLE BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE CAN’T CHANGE”

~Timehop, 11:35 pm

A year ago today is the morning I woke up hoping that the previous night was a dream. The prior night led to me discovering that the person I had foolishly fallen in love with had been out on the day after Christmas, dating someone that wasn’t me. If you’ve kept up with this blog, you know the story and if not, there’s a whole blog here besides the post you are currently reading.  I won’t recall the story in it’s entirety.

Today, I look back on the last year. In this last year, the ups and downs of moving on beyond a love turned sour has been one of the biggest challenges I have faced. I burned things, threw things away, retrieved things, wrote blogs and poems, lip synced to songs with all my little heart, I have done all I could think to do…..including praying, talking to my friends and ignoring my own broken urges.

He hurt me. But I buried myself in it. I closed the casket on myself and laid in death with the things I hoped for us that turned out to be for someone else. I peeked out only when I thought I wanted to breathe again. It has been terrible on my soul.

One of our earlier conversations and something I may have mentioned in this blog before was about the woman prior to me. He asked me ‘do you think a person can be in love with the idea of love?’.  I told him yes, and in all honesty right now, I remember thinking to myself how ‘foreshadow-y’ this conversation FELT. We talked quite a bit about the possibility of a woman being in love with an idea rather than reality. He went on to tell me that she thought she loved him although he gave her no reason to fall in love and he never even slept with her or lead her to believe he was interested in her. He said she was basically having a hard time moving on. I remember standing in my living room pushing away the consciousness of my internal voice. There were all sorts of alarms and pre-warnings in this conversation but I had to believe in him. I had to believe in the possibility that the person I wanted was also the person that wanted ME. He described who we turned out to be in telling me the previous entry in his collection of emotions campaign. I can’t even refer to it as hindsight because it was in view at that moment. I just was different, lol. ;) #ThingsWeTellOurselvesInTheFire

Seeing as though 2014 literally began with the crash of me and him, it is of no surprise to me that it played it for a long time; I just didn’t expect it to last nearly the entire year. Never have I experienced that type of grief over a relationship before, and especially not one that wasn’t even a professed relationship. “It was all a dream”. I pitched this idea and projected my hopes and wants and got hurt when NONE of it was reciprocated.  Read the blog if you are curious. It’s all here.

I don’t want to dig it all up, but basically, I’ve walked a great deal of this year in zombie-like state because my heart was broken. He lied, he hurt me and he half ass-I’ve-been-caught apologized for it and chucked the deuces like I was no one. I AM someone. And it hurt me even more, that like so many before him, I was forgettable. Nothing I said or did mattered, because there was something about me that wasn’t connecting. If any of these things came out as honest conversations, I really don’t believe it would have stung as hard. But when a woman has to investigate and find out shit on her own, that becomes its own beast. And boy has it been one.

Its been one hell of a fucking year. Trying to forget him and how much he hurt me. Forgetting him, moving on from HIM, not wanting HIM anymore has been the easiest part. Forgetting how the hurt FELT, forgetting how easily he forgot about me, forgetting how stupid I was, how much I ignored all the warnings, forgetting the day I stopped trying to avoid who he was has been what the challenge is. 

It’s easy to dislike a person and no longer want contact with them.

It is not as easy to forget what occurred to make things that way.

I buried myself in plays and shows and ideas and people in hopes to keep my mind busy, but at the end of everything, I was still hurting greatly. Small step by small step, I have rid myself of bits and pieces of him that were left behind. The dopamine flavor faded a long time ago. I haven’t ‘wanted’ him. I have craved retribution. And I never got it.

Never saw a big break up or heard about bad news through the grapevine. Nothing. Not a peep.

It was never about him.

It’s always been about me. MuseWeasel was the culmination of all of the bad choices I could possibly make and all the instinctive conversations I could ignore from myself.  He came packaged up so beautifully with the perfect charm and the greatest arms I had ran for cover to. I loved him. Even in typing that, I remember loving him, in such a short but very deliberate period of time and how excited it made me to fall. I was excited he would fall for me too. Queen told me she had never seen me beaming like that before.  Gabby told me she had never heard me cry like that before.

In the play, For Colored Girls, I was asked to write two original pieces that I perform during the show. One of them comes after the rape scene and the poem is entitled ‘Non-stranger with a Familiar Name’. I was asked to write about being  raped by someone you know. I wrote this poem ten minutes after being asked to write it, in one sitting, with VERY minimal change/alterations from inception to performance. I wrote it, during a loud, tightly enclosed rehearsal and the way the words flew from my fingers was as if it was a poem that had been long sitting on my heart, awaiting the day they would be released.  No, he did not rape me, at all. But the words, beyond the surface of the topic, are everything.  They are him. They are all of them. They are each and every heartbreak, every time I fell in an unrequited love, in a single poem that was written for my character who had nothing and yet everything to do with me.

What a year.

Hell, what a life !!!!!

And it took nearly the entire year for me to see a great deal of it, bit by bit, but oh boy does it feel like ice to a wound to be in the process of continual letting go and healing. Heart remodeling. I’m still not a point where I feel like I believe that a love out there exists for me by way of companionship.  That’s still hard for me to believe.  But I flirt with the idea.

At least I’m not sitting up in the middle of the night contemplating things. Or facebooking ( my timehop started jumping as of today) my way through this heartbreak. At least I did it semi-gracefully. * shrug *  Or, idk, at least I didn’t catch no cases or end up in no one’s jail or on the wrong side of karma.

I started this blog.

And I am damn glad I did. I have NO regrets.

If calling his ass out means I get to fully heal, then his ear phones will be ringing. I have no regrets. While I take complete and full responsibility for the way of my heart is set up, I don’t, can’t and wouldn’t if I could take responsibility for his wrong doings. He was wrong. By all accounts, he was wrong for lying, for being a dick, for fucking multiple people, for toying with people’s emotions and for many others things that are outlined in this blog.

He was wrong.

And I’m ok with saying that too.

Before, I thought any time I called him out, I needed to follow that up with what I did wrong as well, but fuck it yo. Wrong is wrong is wrong is wrong.

I don’t have to tit for tat. I don’t have to heal overnight or smile about it when I’m hurting. I don’t have to protect his legacy. Or stay quiet and not mention anything. I don’t have to be ok right now. I don’t have to hold on. I don’t have to hold him too high of standards and I don’t have to hold myself to low of any. One of my timehops said that I was officially gonna ‘stop pushing my chair in at the toddler’s table’.  That was from today, a year ago.

One of my older timehops stated that I expected it would take the better of a year for me to get over what I was feeling. The year is here. It has nothing to do with the ‘new year.’ It has everything to do with actual time.

The time has elapsed.

The blogs became less frequent and although I intend to continue this blog, it is no longer a necessary part of my healing. I’ve flirted with that cute lil young dude quite a bit.

One time, not too long ago, we hugged tightly and I found myself scared to hug him back in the way he was hugging me. We had already hugged, only moments before, so this hug was really something else. This was our secret moment. This was us physically flirting in innocence. I knew it by the way his pelvis touched mine. I was firm in my stance and even though I wanted to turn my head into his neck and inhale deeply, while pushing my chest into his and returning the momentary flirt, I couldn’t. We broke hug and went our separate ways.

I don’t know when (or if) someone will ever touch my heart again or when I will be able to hug without pause or kiss without one eye open. I haven’t had a date since 2013 and sex is the furthest thing from my mind.

I don’t talk on the phone, or text anyone and that has been my existence since the inception of this blog. But today, I don’t say that in sadness like I did when I first started. Today, I say that in acceptance and ok’ness.

Today, I am so ok with where I am. I don’t wonder if I’m ‘good enough’ or if I’m less than because I’m not a sorority chick or cause I didn’t go to IU. I know I don’t have to play games and force feelings. I think the reason I was destined to fall in love with MuseWeasel was for this life lesson he left me with. I admit, sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about me. I wonder if he’s smiling or life is treating him well, but those thoughts have become fewer and fewer and none of them have immediate emotion or tears accompaniment. I’m ok with meeting him. I’m ok with falling in love with who I met. I am no longer upset with myself for being so willing to love him. To hand him my heart and wait to see what he would do with it. This is work. It has taken GREAT work, great resilience, great refusal to bow down and let him run away and propose to his BAE with my crown! 

I don’t regret him or my choices anymore. I don’t regret the times I tried to help him or the tears or the way the I felt when I thought we were making love to each other. But I will never doubt myself again or my instincts. This was step by step Guide to Relationship Building for Dummy JY. I see that in hindsight.  And I accept it for the betterment of my soul.

I filed for bankruptcy. And I look forward to rebuilding my finances and my heart. I found my inner sexy again and i'm ready for a photo shoot. I am not 100 percent but I am the closest to it that I have been this entire year. I wouldn't change it. 

I look forward to someone taking interest in me and asking me out.But I won't hold my breath or my life waiting for it to happen. #WatchMeLive

 I really want to go skiing for my birthday. I found myself inviting the secret service man I have spoken of once or twice. He asked me when and I never responded.

I figured I was doing it again.

Going at things all wrong. I’m about to be 36 and if there is one thing that being 35 taught me, it is that I am seasoned, beautiful and deserving enough to have someone take interest in pursuing the knowledge of who I am, rather than me trying to handcuff a nigga out of his carseat and label him a King.

** pulls down aviator shades, turns on JayZ and pulls away of from Pump 2 **

I finally got my fill up. 

Today's soundtrack was Californication's last episode. There is a song they played near the end, that they have played during different melancholy episodes prior to this one. It was the perfect soundtrack. It was a good ending. A happy-ish ending. It was one of those, sometimes life happens, but all you can really do is throw on a pair of red boots, click them twice, say there's no place like ROAM and just.....go!

Watch out world.

I'm not dead yet. 

~januarIe 

No One is Immune

http://necolebitchie.com/2014/12/video-nicki-minaj-breaks-down-while-talking-about-her-ex-safaree-and-not-being-able-to-function-without-him/#more-291932



Welp.

#Human #Because......#Love #AMuseD

Bed of Lies

http://necolebitchie.com/2014/12/video-nicki-minaj-pours-her-heart-out-with-bed-of-lies-on-ellen/#more-291756


http://youtu.be/m-GKJ3YXy1E



"do you ever think of me when you lie
lie down in your bed
your bed of lies
and i knew better than to look in your eyes
they only pretend
you would be mine......


I just figured if you saw me, if you looked in my eyes
you'd remember our connection
and be free from the lies....."



Wow Nicki. 
Pain brings the human out. :/  I'm not a 'fan' but i love this song, i love her transparency and the fact that it doesn't look contrived. AT ALL. 

BeliefAndExperience - Whats In Your BAE?

"No one wants a desperate woman !!!"
~Judge Gregg Mathis

DESPERATE:

Adjective

1. Reckless or dangerous because of despair, hopelessness or urgency
2. Having an urgent need, desire, etc
3. Leving little or no hope, very serious or dangerous
4. Extremely bad; intolerable or shocking
5. Extreme or excessive
6. Making a final, ultimate effort; giving all
7. Actuated by a feeling of hopelessness.
8. Having no hope; giving in to despair. 

Ooooooh, the way Judge Mathis said that word burned me and he wasn’t even talking to me.  The sound of that word alludes to someone being ‘less than’, whatever the sport. If someone describes you using the word DESPERATE, it’s hardly ever a compliment. Or at least for me, I’ve never heard it used in a complimentary way; perhaps sarcastic, but definitely not as a compliment.

In writing this blog, I tend to listen to music, directly in my ears (through headphones) so that each song is that much closer. Today, as I got ready to write this blog, I had to switch from my homegirl Trixie Whitley to something more ‘somber’ so to speak so that I could channel the words that were on my heart to share.  I went to the playlist that I listen to about 98% of the time, Objects in the Mirror Are Closer Than That Appear and strolled up the 400+ songs to find a stopping point. As I type, I am listening.

The chosen song: Sam Smith, Life Support.

It’s perfect for this blog, but it’s a single song. Sometimes, I listen to a single song on repeat until I have finished writing, but not today. As usual, my playlist is on random.  The song just went off and the next song that came on, that is playing right this second, is Leela James, Falling.

Lets get it.

Desperation.  ….so much I can say about it. I wonder how much longer I would have continued to the road of hopeful tossing myself in rings of fire, hoping to come out on the other side WEARING a ring.  Even if it meant me being burned, I have always been so willing to GIVE ME in exchange for a stolen reciprocity that I’ve just never experienced.  As I listen to Leela sing these words over this love-melancholy beat, I can see myself walking down the aisle.

I only want it to happen once.

I can see him, although his face is a blur.

I can see his silhouette, staring at me for the first time in 24 (or more) hours, in this dress, fitted, long, WHITE (pffft) and probably a hint of some color, definitely some lace …..i can see his eyes watering at the mere thought that the woman walking peacefully up the aisle is about be his, for the rest of ever.  I make my way to the front, my family and friends looking on with tears of happiness in their eyes because they each know how much it probably means to me to be living such a moment.  I stop, take his hand and in a second long pause, life covers us both in the glow of God’s happiness. His tear leaps off his chin, falling onto the pocket of his suit, as his hand takes mine for the first time in the wedding.  We turn, face the preacher and begin life together.

It’s a chapter that I never thought of in great detail as a kid, but I never thought I would get in my late 30s and not have anyone. Today, I’m not sad about it. I’m not upset. I’m not even numb. I’m just, what I am. I still want love, someday.  But I’m not sad, TODAY, that the story I just made up has never been my reality. I’ve spoken in great detail in this blog about wanting to be loved…..i started trying to better appreciate those WHO DO love me.  But let’s run it back some.

Before today,

Before now,

Back when last year was still happening. This time last year, things had gone sour and I knew it, but still I held on.  The Justin Timberlake concert was one year ago from yesterday. So approx. one year ago, I was texting someone, in an act of desperation to hold on,  trying to bribe him to let me give him more of me by saying I had a piece of Tennessee Whiskey Cake in the car that I wanted to eat together.  He never responded. I text him early into the concert.

Odds are, he was probably with the woman who is his girl now.

I on the other hand, was still playing my role: Desperate.  I didn’t expect him to text me back. I checked my phone several times in the concert to no avail. I waited and hoped and even after arriving home more than 45 minutes after the concert was over and hours after I text him, I still would have been willing to go to him if he had’ve just  text me back. He never did. And after such a wonderful concert that left my heart yearning for a piece of any one of the songs JT had sang,  I went to bed: lonely. I wasn’t lonely because I was single. I was lonely because there was someone in my life who didn’t want to be there and I couldn’t stop him from leaving….but I was still hanging on. Being desperate.

Let’s hit a couple of those definitions.

1.       Reckless or dangerous because of despair, hopelessness or urgency.

Reckless became everything I was. Fucking without a condom because ‘we share this deep connection’. LMAO. That’s what I told myself. It still amazes me that I got out with my coochie unscathed and still intact.  One of the first things I told him one day while we were having a talk about sex was that I didn’t like to share and he shared virtually the same sentiment (before I did ironically), so there was a part of me that foolishly, recklessly and dangerously hung on to that sole conversation as more reason to believe that it was just me.

Hopelessness or urgency – Yeah…the first time we had an extended conversation I knew I would love him. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop that, but I pretended that to not be my reality. It was tho. I feel in love, in like, in lust, in need, in an urgent desperate hope that he would answer that burning question in my heart: will you love me back? He didn’t answer or love me back. My ex prior to him, who I’ve discussed in this blog before, gave me a damn space heater for Christmas and a tape dispenser made as a shoe for my birthday. To say I was hopeless is an understatement. When I left him, I knew I deserved way better than that. I knew I deserved for someone to care, to give a damn longer than it takes for their ego to be satisfied in some wordly way.  Prior to him, one ex made me beg for a bracelet that he never bought, another one bought me a bracelet and spent the rest of our relationship cheating on me and trying to kill me. I was hopefully hopeless, but in an urgent state of need for companionship that was reciprocated from that which I would be willing to give. I gave…too much of me....

and i want to get this straight because I know I'm always talking about money this and money that, and the reason being is because that part of our story ASTONISHES me.... I just can't believe that happened, BUT-
I mean way more than my money and body...I gave my  trust...my belief IN...what fucking little was to give, i gave...
not because I was so DESPERATE that I would project what I wanted
-and i did do that..i ultimately did project like a mf-
but
I'm a woman who possesses submission.... I let the man lead.
I only 'projected' after he lead me...
and he lead me...he kept leading me...he was never honest, never once. He was a coward.
that is a fact, it's ok,
I accept I followed a deleted tweet....get it ? 
But I gave him the places and spaces in my head and heart that should be reserved for that man who would see me at the end of the aisle that he brought me to after proposing
in a helicopter
in New York
flying high, over the waters, above the buildings,

night time....
we land somewhere....a rooftop....things are set up
i don't know what else because I don't know what he would do. ...but he would do that much, because he would know THAT much about me,

he would know what that would make me feel like and he would want THAT
and he would see me at the end of that aisle in that swan Very  Wang dress and his eyes would water....

The reservations HE deserves, were being foolishly
DESPERATELY
given to, or TOSSED at, depends on the angle, a man who wasn't willing to appreciate the closet two beings to me; the dogs-
- Problem House! o.O

for all that I gave.....I've received a year's worth of ass whooping, emotional fallout and bankruptcy ....emotional bankruptcy
depletion...resistance...anger, hurt..prolonged sadness
extended thoughts of revenge...
I've lived in a strange bubble after this one....
because, he just didn't have to hurt me that.
...And say sorry and shrug that shit off #LikeMoneyAintAThang

                6. Making a final ultimate effort; giving all & 7. Actuated by a feeling of hopelessness.

What the hell made me go soooo fucking hard for dude????

He NEVER went hard for me. The most this nigga did was pull me in for a wet kiss and hug in front of the patrons at Different Peace of Mind the night of the erotic show, when I wore that LOVE dress for the first time. He just wanted to show anyone who was there who was getting that. I liked it. I believe I  talked about it before in this blog. I did. If it was done today, I would like it. I want someone to look at me and be so happy and so proud and honored that THEY are the chosen one for me and vice versa that they want to pull me in and let the whole world know it is me and them against all odds. But that’s not what that was. Idk what it was to be honest…I still don’t doubt that we did in fact share a connection that was special and deep seeded. But it was probably me doing more of the connecting because I wasn’t against it from the get go.  That nigga was Bad Religion for me.

I just turned that on btw.

But what made me go so hard for him? Especially after giving the boot to a man who was just as fine, with a better apartment, car, options, more money…….where he lived reminded me of New York …..but he was the same person as this nigga.  And I didn’t like it with him, so I gave him the bounce skate……but this fool was able to finagle his way into my heart and life in a way that made my internal desperation rear her head in ways that depleted my finances, pride and made me look like the biggest fool this side of the open mic.

It was just so unfair. It felt so unfair that he would lie so blatantly to me the ways he did. In hindsight, all the shit I believed , I now see what the lie was and know why.  But I knew for a minute. Two months. I found out about what he had going on…I pulled that contweet thread up. I saw all those fucking pictures on IG in NOVEMBER. IT wasn’t until them filler flowers appeared on New Years Day that I couldn’t let myself be made into a fool like such anymore. Nigga took my power –

But actually,

I handed that shit over to him like brand new car keys…..

I had given up before we met. I had doubted me finding and keeping and being good for love long before I could remember his name. I had given up mentally but not physically. In the physical sense, I was still going, still believing, still holding on to the thought that someone out there was looking for me as much as I him.  And for whatever freaking reason why, I thought I finally landed right next to him.  We would stare in each other’s eyes and idk what he was looking at and thinking, but I figure I was projecting my hopes/thoughts/feelings into his cornea and receiving what I put in. Lol. I wanted to believe that there was hope for me even tho I didn’t necessarily feel it.

I had spent 7 years with a person and left with a ring I had to buy myself. 

I had watched ex’s move on, get married, have families and it just started to look like that whole common denominator thing …. :/  

Is it me? Whats wrong with me?

I felt like if someone else could see the Light within me, then maybe it would re-awaken that part of me that was slowly dying off.  That part of me that still believed in things….the part that believed in the beautiful.

Hurt people hurt people huh? Well, this hurt woman wanted to love someone and I’m not saying I didn’t or haven’t hurt anyone, ( I didn’t hurt that clown cake tho), but my goal, my main focus was loving someone else……

……hmmm

Actually, my main goal was loving someone else into loving me.
I thought I could high heel, out poetry everyone and speak into existence love for me, from him. That is not true. I was not the muse of the women who speak in my poems….

“I am too much woman to be loved via a measuring cup”

I wasn’t her.

“I ain’t nobody’s cut”

I was his cut and that was it.

“Momma don’t play chess when the king is missing”

I did.

I played chess without a king, turned into a pawn and couldn’t have found a Queen if I were living in Buckingham Palace.

By the time we were months into talking to each other, I knew this was my final attempt. I had built up enough stamina to give it a go. He made me want to. I was ready. I was willing.

And unfortunately,

I was desperate.

* Daley, Love Somebody now playing *

I was desperate for a man to show me, me from his eyes and it be beautiful.

I was desperate for a man’s love in a companionship way.

I was desperate to just have my somebody.

I was desperately wanting out of the chase, the search, the disappointments. …I didn’t think he would disappoint me. Idk where I even pulled all this foolish optimism from…..

But I had it.

And I desperately wanted it to be something he liked about me. I tried to be every woman when I’m just januarie. 

I tried desperately to be BAE.

Not knowing he already had her….

The only person I never tried to be was the woman in my poems.

Somehow, she got lost in the shuffle of desperately seeking (a) bruising.

And that I got.

The woman who stood before many people, starting back in 2012 and said “I am too much woman to be loved in a measuring cup.

I am not a bruised muse in heels…

I be wife, of ruler, in stilettos”, turned out to be the opposite of who she wrote life into. She was bruised. She was a muse to be used up and she set herself up for all of it. If ever there were a time I placed my heart on an auction block and then dipped over to a nigga’s table to hold up his numbered sign for purchasing, this was it.  Everything I did and said was from a desperate place. A place of almost giving up. Everything came from a conscious woman no doubt, but a woman who was on her final grand challenge and her final run of belief in someone…..

A woman in despair, who did not want to believe that there is/was no one for me.  I wanted it to be him. I NEEDED it to be him…or so I thought. I needed him to look at me say something to make me experience him. I needed him to see what no one else saw…what I did NOT need was for him to come in and destroy what was left of me….Instead, I experienced broken trust, misuse of my emotions and ironically enough, after shelling out money-by-pound to him, a year later (this time last year I had just promised him the money that he would go on to buy filler flowers for his bae with), I am about to file bankruptcy. Not because of him…..because of some shit from my 20s, coming through and doing an unhealthy cleanse on my credit score that I worked so hard on. ….I’m just noting the irony tho.

“Thank God I am a woman…NOW’’. ….because desperation almost made me an infant again.  And as the sun begins to set on this cold Thursday afternoon and I prepare to take my sleepy ass to this second job, I am loving the reawakening of the woman I am.

Belief - I AM too much woman to be loved at a measuring cup. 

And - 

Experience - You will not experience ME just because you a man. 

I will never again let someone take me for a ride outer space and drop me off on the nearest condemned planet before darting back to Earth to save the woman who always had his heart.

I thank him for the lesson he gave me and for the way he opened me up to love him and as a result, learn about ME, as a companion.  I could have done a couple few things better to him I guess, but truth is, someone else had his heart before I ever knew his name. I never stood a chance. And if he were a whole of a man instead of the broken person he turned out to be, he would have told me that before he crushed what was still standing.

While it is true that I finally feel the most at peace with this since this year started and while it is also true that this dude HUMBLED me in a way I could have never expected to be humbled, I know me...i know there will always be a part that feels 'something' towards him. ...something less savory than love but not as crucial as I hope you die a painful death. So fuck you #MuseWeasel20144012

. I'm so Crown and counting that a three letter misspelling of an infantile word and some $4 gas station flower were never and could have never been enough for me....for I AM too much woman, to be loved in a fucking measuring cup.  Being a part of the play For Colored Girls has exposed me to myself in some other ways as well.....every little bit counts. 

 And for the rest of my life of loving, I will always remember you as the man who showed me a mirror in a way no other man could have done.

Sometimes, lies are the key towards unlocking the desperation gates and flying off. <3

Just in time for #TrixieWhitley – The Engine. Now Playing.

~januarie

GUESS WHAT !!!!!!!!!!!??????????????

NEW BLOG POST COMING SOON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;)  

AS IN

TODAY !


<3 

Monday Godspeaks

An excerpt from an article I read this morning called "49 Reasons Why We're Never Breaking Up Anymore", via Elitedaily.com. The article was written by Lauren Martin....and wow.


".......We’re entering half-assed relationships and ending them with even less attention. Most of our relationships are over before we can say we know what that person looked like.

We’re just not responding, not answering and not giving a f*ck. We’re throwing our hearts at the first person who direct messages us then taking them back at the first sign of something better.

The problem with today’s dating culture is that there isn’t one. There’s a hook-up culture, and within that hook-up culture, there’s shallow, biased and surface feelings that we’re trying to use to get away from the real ones.

We’re guarding ourselves so that we never really have to face that inevitable heartbreak that almost always comes with every relationship. We’re refusing to enter real relationships, and we’re also refusing to officially end any of them.

By constantly keeping people on back burners, refusing to end things with real closure and never starting or stopping on any real terms is more damaging than experiencing the heart-wrenching pain of a real, honest breakup.

Because at least with the pain of a terrible and sad ending, there’s the hope of a fresh start.

Without this ending, without ever getting that closure we need, we’re refusing to let ourselves ever enter into something without carrying along our past five “failed” still open, never-ended “relationships.”

Because we were never really dating to begin with.Because we were never really dating to begin with.

Because the relationship was never real.

Because you never confirmed what was in your head and what wasn’t.

Because Tinder.

Because we’ve confused lust and love.

Because Snapchat.

Because we’re too scared.

Because we’re perpetually connected.

Because there’s nothing worse than getting your heart broken.

Because you can’t burn a Facebook photo.

Because they’re everywhere.

Because they’re on Gchat.

Because they’re on Instagram.

Because they’re on LinkedIn.

Because we hate change.

Because your next chance encounter is only a swipe away.

Because not responding to a text isn’t a breakup.

Because no one knows how to say goodbye.

Because we’re too chicken sh*t to be honest.

Because we’d rather just be casual than vulnerable.

Because casual is often only casual for one party."

http://elitedaily.com/dating/never-breaking-anymore/850620/

For the full article. 

I basically reposted their full article because wow.

Now Playing: Alicia Keys - Lesson Learned. 

Trigger Warning: There is an "E N " attached to this Que

trig·ger warn·ing
noun
a statement at the start of a piece of writing, video, etc., alerting the reader or viewer to the fact that it contains potentially distressing material (often used to introduce a description of such content).


FB is a full blown trigger pull.

How do you fully expect to heal when every where you scroll, you find trigger fingers activated and pointed at you? How many thoughts can you manage to control before you run out of room in the control center? How many times can you see something that reminds you of something negative before you stop putting yourself in the pat

What a colorful journey to #DespiteOf this has been................


I just saw them muthafuckin qboots and got dizzy trying to hang on and control all my immediate thoughts.

i know for  fact that i really can't hang on to fb much longer.
it exacerbates my lack of complete healing.

There are ques up and down my timeline celebrating and posting purple and gold and boots and mentions and shit .....

and i simply want to go back to the day before I met one.


I bet, anything in this world, that the odds are, if I signed up for Deckademics, I would move on with a lot more ease. I have long thought this....this may be the first time I'm penning it as my potential truth.  #irony

Because of ......

"i'm bored with myself"


 Something I heard myself say last night in conversation with a friend. After smoking a bit and wanting to sip wine straight out the bottle but deciding not to because I don't want to venture down another cover-up highway, I also heard something else:

I sounded like  Rose.

Rose.

It tripped me out beyond my own belief. Who is Rose you say? Rose is the character I play in For Colored Girls (The play coming in december). If you've seen the movie, which the play is based off of, Rose is the character played by Macy Gray.

The raspy cigarette-voiced woman who gives illegal and harmful abortions in a corner pocket of some ducked off projects, presumably set in Harlem.  Her appearance, although short, is powerful. I've spoken on facebook several times about getting to know this character and these words she delivers in her poem.  It can easily go over people's heads because she is the 'demon chick' in the show. Not only does she give abortions, she gives them illegally, in her apartment with stained equipment that she sanitizes with the same liquor she pours in her cup to sip out of.  In her poem tho, she is broken.

She is hurt, abused, taken advantage of......she is CHANGED.
She was made INTO this person that is on the screen being hated. She was not born that way, she did not intend to be that way, she is who she is BECAUSE OF her circumstances; not despite them.

"Because of"
or
"Despite of."

Two different scenarios in our lives. We can be someone BECAUSE of situation or DESPITE our situation.....she was the BECAUSE of ......

She was harmed by men, women, she was raped, she was stolen, she was sacrificed in the name of New York.....she was changed....because of.

In her poem, she alternates between having a direct conversation with Nyla (The young lady there for an abortion) and having direct recollections of her time spent being innocent, which is a separate conversation that takes place with herself, while also having a conversation with Nyla. She drifts in and out of these two different speeds of talking.....she blanks out into her memories to a point that you can see her tasting what she is recalling...you can tell it changed her...it 'made' her....and she hurt because of what she remembers..she speaks of her trust being broken....she talks of being 'in the world' and what that got her....the stomps back into talking directly to Nyla, where she is angered, upset and soaring in her BECAUSE OF glory......

Last night,
after talking for about 45 minutes nonstop about my life and struggles and trials and how one simple fixable problem can open the floodgates to 'everything else', I stopped talking. And in that instant silence I saw Rose in my reflection. I saw her, I heard her, I saw myself, in REAL LIFE, talking in REAL LIFE to a REAL LIFE person, in my own  REAL LIFE way about MY REAL LIFE,

 THAT is how I am supposed to perform Rose in REEL life....
because THAT is who Rose is.
Who i was last night
a woman toggling between good and evil, memories and currency....sadness and anger that wants revenge on everything, no matter the cost to her already stolen soul.....


I heard that naturally
in me
last night
while i was talking.....

and before it could excite me because it means I CAN bring life to this character....it hurt me, because of all the women on the show to me, how the fuck did I end up being Rose?

The situation might be somewhat different and the results of how I have chosen to channel my feelings and save/help/hurt others might not be the same, but i AM Rose and there is no point for me to NOT bring awareness to that, if only for myself.....the way I naturally dove in and out of my memories last night and back to my conversations, there is no open air for me to believe or feel otherwise...
And it seriously scared me.....
andsaddened me ....

Because I am sooooooooo angry and i honestly do not know what to do to rid myself of it.
And i am so hurt.
I'm almost 36 and it makes me embarrassed to say that I feel the ways that I do but these ways are my reality yo.....i am hurting or angry or something about my stepfather....i really am. I am more upset by my stepfather's treatment of me than I am about my father's dismissal of me. But the two of these combined, plus a brother who was never fully interested or invested makes it sooooo freaking hard to stay optimistic....it leaves room for me to believe in my circulation of negative thoughts that these guys saw the bad in me early on and saved themselves by not being emotionally invested in me.....
I want to let it go and for some years, I was ok with it....
i guess, idk, it just gets hard sometimes to keep up the facade i put on for myself.... sometimes, i just give into the idea that i was born to be this sexual  temptress who would bust open her own chest and throw her beating heart at the nearest male who looks like he MIGHT be capable of offering a bigger grain of salt than the last one....then i read what i write, and i know how i feel when i'm on the more positive level of thinking and i think to myself, that is not believable or acceptable....
but damn.

and last night, i told my bro that I am so used to hurting that i don't think I know any other way, so I just live in my past hurt when no present hurt is coming because its just what i"m used to. ...its what i'm accustomed to. ...i. don't trust people to love me unconditionally....i don't trust myself with my relationships with people anymore and i'm doing little to keep them cultivated right now because i am up to my ears in friends and cool people's and family and all that .......

only to still be companionless. ...as if I am not good enough or deserving enough for it....A male friend i've known since i was about 7 or 8 suggested that in exchange for fixing my starter on my truck, which he said is a $125 job, that he would only charge me 85 bucks....
....and a date.

-_-


And in these moments,
i feel like God hates me.
 I know he doesn't. ....he couldn't possibly unless it is the devil posing as God giving me the mounds of blessings that have come my way.....

but sometimes,
man. ...
i just don't understand how God could 'know' that all the men (or at least MOST of them) in my life would never SEE me for anything more than what THEY want. No matter what it is...and not equip me with the insight or discernment or just the STRENGTH.....gosh damn, i feel like such a weakling...

I am doing it, right now,
even in my blog,
in my writing
I am being ROSE.

and its quite the mirror to look into.................cause I know i will never have anyone as long as this is how i feel....and its not about wanting someone anymore ....its about working myself back to the point where I really feel like i DO deserve a great man......

honestly,
I don't believe that no more.
I just tell myself that because that's what people want to believe about Januarie York. Truth is, I feel and have long felt like used up, washed up goods that will never have love in that capacity. And that makes me sad....
because it makes me  Rose....
it makes me sad because it makes me less than that which has sought to kill me....

How come I ended up BECAUSE OF rather than DESPITE OF?

later on that afternoon.........

That post earlier may have been a little petty...
perhaps?

serious face

*  le sigh  *

I don't know.....
i started back writing in this blog......i wonder if there is some type of way I can channel this into the novel challenge (NaNoMo...or something like that o.O) ....meaning, as inspiration...
i haven't started on that....

in effort not to ramble, let me cut to the chase....

the post earlier may have been a little petty.

it makes me wonder if i'm stifling my growth by doing little silliness like that....er'body eats ass, its a thing now, right??? ****Note: 'er'body does NOT include me or any of my personalities'

* befuddlement ensues *

 ok  i was making a point
it's what was on my mind

this is why i stopped writing on this blog
because i felt like i no longer had the right to share these things.....like i'm wrong somehow for sharing these things or even worse, making myself out to be a  victim of men all over indiana....and neither of those are what i wanted

neither are true....

i'm not wrong
and i'm not a victim

i'm an equal opportunist at best, giving all who vandalize my heart, the same opportunities without discernment being a practiced virtue ....i've played into the hands of the devil, played hands dealt by the devil, played the fucking devil.....shit...

I am by no means anyone's golden angel who dudes just shit on for no reason....a lot of karma as been afforded to me...and a lot of poor decision making has come at my own hands....this blog is the result of both of those things....and then there are just shitty ass people out here ....
this blog includes that too....

for me, this blog is about exposing my flaws of who i allow into my life and how far.....in one of the episodes of Sex in the City, Carrie is seeing a  therapist after a break up with Big.....she meets a guy in the lobby of their shared therapist's office....they start 'dating'....finally, they sleep together.

Afterwards, they are laying in the bed together, cuddling and what not, when Carrie finally asks him exactly what he is seeing a therapist for. .....without seeming the slightest bit disturbed, he said 'i lose interest in a woman after I sleep with her" .....

note the irony....
Carrie noted the irony, as it displayed across her face....he asked her the question in return......her reply: " I pick the wrong men" .....

It was at that moment she got it.  When the therapist initially alluded to that being the problem, Carrie didn't understand it or get it....she was actually offended.  When she spoke to her girls about it, they all agreed with the therapist. Carrie still didn't understand how she was being accused of picking the wrong men, when it rather seemed like these men pick her and she gives them a chance.  She felt like this is who makes themselves available to me and so she pulls from her open category of options....these are the options...!!! But in that moment, as she lay in her bed with her covers over her chest, naked and next to a naked man who, only just now told her that he loses interest in women after sex....

.after they just had sex, 
that is when she got it....she knew then he had just lost interest in her, in her bed.....and for the first time, she saw herself doing the picking...she saw the role SHE played in this theatrical real Life Time....
you'd have to see the episode in its entirety, but upon noticing him, she thought he was cute and let her mind wander off from there, until it met up with him...but she was at her therapist's office...not exactly the fruit section of the grocery store....

No pun intended, but it might not be the ideal place to pick up a date....its these simple and sometimes small decisions and details that have the power to make or break a portion of our lives.....lets say there is nothing wrong with getting a date from the therapy room (no judgment)...how do we end up in the bed with each other before we even know why each other is seeing a therapist ??? #SimpleDecisionsThatChangeOurLives

It all matters in the end....might as well play it as smart as possible.

I'm a lot like Carrie in so many ways aside from writing and shoes.....
i started watching SITC when  I was 25....i gravitated to it and loved it immediately....some of it, I had experienced while other stuff I couldn't identify with because the characters were all ten years older than me....i thought differently then....now ten years later, I completely and totally GET SiTC....ALL OF IT....every freaking episode....except for the happy endings.

I am Carrie....damn near in real life
but definitely in this blog.....I am Carrie.
and this blog is my therapist...
I am the woman, looking from her bed, at the ceiling, with the cover pulled over her nude body....
laying next to a shadow of someone, whom i don't know well enough to know better than to be here with....even though I know better....
I am finally seeing the role I play in my own demise....i mean....accountability....

so to whomever may be reading this...whether it simply the ghosts of my subconscious or the people who click the links or even remember this was ever a thing, please know, this is not about ONLY calling out foul shit....or calling attention to foul shit.... I ain't gonna front, this is all Sugar-Free, i am most definitely calling attention to some shit...

which is why i ask that this remain the way i have it...if you can see the link, you are more than welcome to read....but please do not share with anyone or repost...i'm not there yet....

this is about my looking glass....my face...my reality...my facts..reasons and whys ...part of the reason i hurt so much is because i hold so much in for so long....there is so much inside of me, right now to this day, that will live with me forever because the time has expired to call attention to them....its hard to live like that ..or to know what to do or where to place the stashes of feelings that have curdled long ago, but still exist....this is about me moving on and for once, not having to hold the shit in that i think is fucked, for sake of saving another muthafuckas image and shit.....bitchplease..... <<<that's not directed at anyone, just felt right*

But in the process of doing so, i have to still and at all times, be honest with myself....because if not, then all this shit is pointless. Period, dot. I may have written something like this earlier in the blog...i can't remember but at the risk of being redundant, so you know its real, i will post this and thank anyone who is hear reading....
i pray we all get something from what is shared....i just felt like i had reiterate that I know my role...i mean, i did just post a childish blog...and i'm not taking it down. #oop

but i'm human and the good thing about that is i'm not afraid to be human!!!!

This will be the last time I give a pep rally about this blog and its point or what it means...i'm not gonna continue to share the links anyway....if you are interested, please bookmark the main page...all you have to do is click on the blog title and it will take you to the main page....i'm not longer posting the links because I want to allow this to do what its supposed to do and who its supposed to be for....

even the only person that it ends up being for, is me.  We've once again made the rounds where its time to release....as you can see, if you can see, if you are that interested, this blog is about lots of people, not one.

So if you been to the block, you be'z on the blog. * shrug *

Welcome to the fabulous life of januarie York...presented with no commercial breaks, but ummm

i'll be right back,
after  these messengers. <3

Non commercial here (watch this): The Break Through


~jY

He Licked My -

So maybe that's one of the reasons I thought we were pretty exclusive to one another.



NAHPE.


I was wronged.

He licked my ass on purpose.

I ACCIDENTALLY ate her pussy off his dick.




SOmetimes,

this shit STILL burns me up. Mental STD's. There is no cure but time.


Lots
and lots
and lots and lots and lots

of time.


I'm really not sure why he has been on my mind this last week or two. Its not that he's been on my mind actually, its moreso, the things that remind me of him have not been avoidable for some reason and as much as I control my thoughts, heck, i'm still human and that shit hurt me, my ego, my poems... all of me.


Yesterday, i asked myself out loud, WHAT THE FUCK!!!!?????
If he knew he so much as tiptoed past my thoughts, not only would his ego blow up some more, but he would also say something like 'why the hell is she even still thinking of me" ???


Here's what tho

All my life, all my relationships, I've covered up loss. I have either stayed in the relationship until I was numb to feelings or I replaced them with someone else, that newer, exciting and more cooler anyway....i've always been able to defer my 'hurt' and ultimately cover it up. This is the first time, in a long time if not in my entire life, that I have had to deal in the loss of someone i loved and wanted, with NO COVER UP!!!! NO BAND AIDS......no nothing.

No new guy
no new friend
no staying with a person until i feel nothingness.....

just some straight up riding it out healing, one day at a fucking time.

I've had a lot of good and  great days over the last 3 months......this has just been an interesting 2 weeks lately. I believe its because of timehop and what I was doing/where my head was at this time last year......his birthday is in a couple of days.....

And I can feel the sting of him openly dismissing spending time with me, like I asked 2 weeks prior, and instead hanging out with 'his boys' as he put it, but in reality.....we know what it was.

I'm healing.
i'm better
i'm greater

i have just had some moments here lately...nothing i couldn't control, but moments nonetheless......i guess this is what it sounds like

when doves cry.

DJ Eaaaaaaaasy Dick #WBalls

Guess who back in the motherfuckin house

With a fat dick for your motherfuckin mouth

Hoes recognize, niggaz do too

Cuz when bitches get skanless and pull a voodoo

What you gon do? You really don't know

So I'd advise you not to trust that hoe

Silly of me to fall in love with a bitch

Knowin damn well, I'm too caught up with my grip

Now as the sun rotates and my game grows bigger

How many bitches wanna fuck this nigga named Snoop

Doggy, I'm all the above

I'm too swift on my toes to get caught up with you hoes

But see, it ain't no fun, if my homies can't get a taste of it

Cause you know I don't love em

Whoa!

Hey, now ya know, inhale, exhale with my flow

One for the money, two for the btiches

Three to get ready, and four to hit the switches

In my Chevy, six-fo' Rad to be exact

With bitches on my side, and bitches on back

So back up bitch cuz i'm strugglin, so get

off your knees and then start jugglin

these motherfuckin nuts in your mouth

It's me, Warren G the nigga with w/the Clout....

~Aint No Fun 

#SnoopDogg

"Ya know, some of these niggaz is so deceptive

Usin my styles like a contraceptive

I hope ya get burnt, 

it seems ya havn't learnt

It's the nick nack patty wack, I still got the bigger sack......................"

~Doggy Dog World  #SnoopDogg

Court is In Session

* sigh *

Honestly,

if I were being honest,

it is REALLY boring for there to be NO ONE within earshot. No texts, no calls, no dates, no NOTHING.  Like NOTHING.

It takes genuine work to not let that make you down on yourself or lower your esteem, even if just by a millimeter....imagine getting close to 40 and there not being a single person attracted to you in a way that attracts you to them.

Shit.

Shrug.

That's not what I came here for.
Some days are greater and met with more ease than others....
today is fine day.
I have agreed to self to indulge in Single Woman's Giving of  Thanks, for the first year ever. I hope that I successfully document it. There's this one second app that once I learn how to work it, I might use to capture it. I might also use it if I end up in NY next week. We'll see. The point is accepting my life, the way it is right now, and not wishing or hoping for something greater, better or bigger to occur in minutes....so for thankgiving, I plan to cook for myself, have candlelit dinner with music (probably Trixie Whitley's favorite stranger on repeat) and just enjoy some holiday-me time....

I digresses.....

I came to drop some poetry....all the above is jY rambles.
So, I had a 7 am inbox from someone who is NOT a suitor. He's someone who I know, who does poetry (i've sworn so far off poets that any overuse of metaphors will get a dude the boot) and who I've known for a while now...he's younger than me. And I enjoy our casual few and far in between poetic flirts with each other. I don't text him or call him much at all....more often than not, i act in response to him....

I don't want to seem like I want him. I do and I don't. I do but I can't have him for many reasons. I don't because I'm not good for anyone right now. I don't because he does what I do and it's never worked in the past. I don't because he is not ready for that....WE are not ready for the same things.....so I tend to move around him with pinky tiptoes.....I don't make much noise or engage for long periods....i cut off conversations or don't read messages until days later...i'm honestly not trying to play any games.....

I'm learning from my past mistakes and as a result, I exist with buckingham guards by my side. They control my moves. I am a robot. * shrug *

Our religions are differing to a point of no agreeance.
The same with our age.
So I am VERY realistic in the sense that this is NOT someone 'dateable' to me. We don't even occupy the same state lines. Which is even better.....he's at more than a distance. #SafePlaces BUT- we flirt......rightfully so....i believe we are both attracted to the poetic musings of each other, as well as the physical of each other.....we have good, humorous and often poetic phone conversations sometimes.....but knowing what we know about age, state and religion are deal breakers that can't be avoided. So I wonder if we both tread this line very finely so that there is no 'liking' that takes place OVER the realms of our boundaries. We are both very boundaried off, potentially for differing reasons.....

but we both flirt sometimes.....and it makes me smile without meaning to or even wanting to. I'm such a girlie girl sometimes that it makes me want to stand up and pee. -_-

...we hung out a few weeks ago, dancing and writhing and talking until the wee hours of the morning...it was the first time my body had contact like that in forever.....it felt good. I let go and let my body and the music take over. We sweat and smiled and touched and rubbed bodies....it was a salacious, somewhat sensual act of desire that was strong enough to break the floorboards we stood upon, yet, we both know our truth and its not in the back of our minds....
...it exists in the front pew.

So we both know what we can do and what we can't.
Sex.
That's all we can offer each other. Our religious beliefs, our states and our ages say so. There is no in between.  And honestly, i do not want an in between. I don't want to date a poet. NEVER ....i'm not saying I wouldn't -

I just don't want to. Its too hard to separate the poems from reality when in date mood. You have expectations of this person based on what you have heard from them but in reality, human beings do not exist in the unknown space of similies and colorful metaphors....this can lead to (and for me, has before) major DISAPPOINTMENT.

So....dating is no option.
Its not warranted or wanted.
Do I want to fuck ??? Man......listen. Its been nearly a year. The days are creeping up and beyond me at rapid speed....its almost hard to fathom. I've had so much sex that I'm all sexed out. I outsexed my life. Now I'm involuntary celibate ....and horny. NOt every day but on the days that I am...........shrew. ......dammit man. -_-

Oh...there was a self imposed question there wasn't it o.O ?
DO I WANT TO FUCK ????? Why did i propose this question with this language??? Simple...because we would not be making love......having sex? Perhaps....but fucking is what we would be doing....if I were being honest....and i honestly think there is a huge difference.

So....do.i.want.to.fuck????
Yes and no. I don't want to fuck just anyone....what i have learned from celibacy is the longer you hold your legs closed, the more picky you get about who gets the opportunity to consume your faux-hymen......i don't want to fuck just anyone...i will not be just fucking anyone......and at this stage, it makes no sense to fuck someone who is not for real interested in me......

unless......
I just want a friend w/benefits.....
and honestly, Idk what I want right now.....i really just want someone to hang out with to make these No Plus One dates a little bit more spicy...i want someone I hit the dancefloor with and grind to the beats of reggae music....someone i can sit in the car and talk to like hours are not passing, someone I can share a meal with or cook a meal for.....someone who enjoys my company and vice versa .....and if sex happened to come into play ,then there it is. Thats what I want.

Idk if that exists for me.....
But this young man...this young wordsmith of poetic breaches of body contact......he is someone who I COULD be friends w/benefits with, bUT-

I don't want to be ONE of the beneficial offers that lay at his feet. Im stingy. I want to be stingy with my body and in return, i want that person to be stingy with theirs. I have no call outs or desires or requests of this young man .....flirting with him on the ocassions that we do really breaks the monotony of my otherwise silent love life. I don't foresee anything happening between us other than the sharing of poems and a few friendly exchanges of flirty heat from time to time......

I want nothing from him.
I only want things from ME.

But this morning, he sent a message....well, a poem quip.....cheesy? Not really.....we always talk about poetry and shows and writing and stuff, so it was right up the alley of our relate-ship. This morning's piece of poetry pie was served up Apple Style....and I ate that shit up like pancakes and syrup. It was nice.  It was simple yet vivid and full of smoke and new york and poetry. I liked it.

So I wrote a response.
And I was going to post that here
But i've already said enough.

~jY

This time last year

I did something I haven't done in awhile.

I poked my nose where it doesn't belong.

...it started in the middle of last week. I was minding my business in my office. I usually have my earphones on but in this particular moment, I was earphone-free.....where I sit is pretty quiet.  There is nothing there but the bathroom (unfortunately for me), a conference room and two offices within earshot.

On this day there was a meeting in the conference room, so it was a bit busy and somewhat noisy so why I didn't have my earphones on yet escapes me, but out of the disturbed silence broke a sound that I hadn't heard in months and stopped me in my tracks.

Those piano keys.
An IPhone ringtone.....idk, it could be for androids too, although every time I've ever heard it since this time last year, it was on an iphone.

It quieted whatever I was thinking and I stopped typing and looked up and out into thought oblivion. It was brief.
It was happening before I could stop it.

it was him.

It was proof that he still exists within me and as mad as that might make me or no matter how ill fated it was for me to love him, I did....therefore, he still exists.

He may always exist.
Although tamed and although I was able to snatch myself back before I drifted into a negative space, I still -

remember him.

That ringtone in the office was the same ringtone of his phone. I remember that ringtone going off around 2 or 3 AM one morning while I was laying there next to him on one pillow while he rolled off the top of about three of them mugs....

that was the first physical time I realized he was interested in me. I read people well. I like to think otherwise; I like to tell myself that what I interpret from the shit people do is wrong, then I go on to realize I was right more often than not. Hmph.

I knew he wasn't into me that night. I think that was one of the last times, if not THE last time, I spent the night with him. Everything else after that was nothingness.... me trying and failing miserably at the expense of my crown and perception.
I had to have looked desperate.
I was.

I desperately wanted to be RIGHT this time.  In that right, I ignored my instincts and essentially sacrificed myself for love and I wanted it to be RIGHT.

I wanted to prove myself otherwise. I wanted to be in the right to love this nigga who didn't really like me enough to tell me that he was dating and fucking someone else.

* shrug *
.....on this last night, his body language towards me was -0. I should not have stayed but my pride new that if I suggested I leave, he would willingly see me off. I didn't want that either. I wanted someone to say 'i'm sorry babe, come here' and hold me.
I KNEW he wouldn't do that. So I laid there until I couldn't take it anymore. He offered me no pillows, no body contact, he hogged the cover and the bed.

It was different than it started. Completely. And I knew it and felt it and when I finally decided to leave, he didn't even walk me downstairs, much less to my car.
Lol.

He gave no more fucks in epic proportions and still I continued to attempt to extract syrup from a coffin and yielded only this blog as a result.

I heard that ringtone last week, and remembered him. I remembered the fact that it was useless of me to love him.

Two days ago, I walked in my house after work. I have two furnaces and usually the one downstairs is off because I'm hardly down there. There are more plug ins down there as well.  There are two different atmospheres within my home; downstairs and upstairs. As I walked up the steps and the warmer air covered my body, the smells transitioned from the scents of downstairs to the that of my bedroom.

I got to the top of steps and stopped.
Dead in my tracks.

Whatever I just smelled, I hadn't smelled since this time last year. I recognized it.
It was the scent of his house.
It was distinct.
Memorable. I used to smell it in anticipation when I would be on my way over there.
For some reason, I smelled it in my house.

Had I bought the same plug in as him? Idk....I know that smell tho.
And I knew it the minute it touched my nostrils.
It made me angry.

I still remembered this muthafucka. I have been long gone from his mind no doubt. How is it that he could even have a this long of a blog for me to discuss, nearly a year later????? Ugh.....
I mean, none of this shit involved tears or nothing like that....
i didn't sit around and dive deeper into the thought process, and I didn't drive myself crazy with what ifs, but man.....
still.....

its like WTF. -_-


Today I overstepped my boundaries.
I checked looked at his twitter page.
Looked at his girlfriend's page.

Shrugged my shoulders.
It really didn't make me feel anything. I would say I'm happy for them but why lie???

Seems like people don't get their karma. ....
But i know they always do.


I won't venture back to their neck of the woods anymore.
I would kick myself for falling into the trap today, but hey....he's all in my timehop and this time last year, I was excited and in love and ready to give him the gift I knew would be adored and unexpected.....so eh...

maybe its apart of the mourning process...
dates/times...things.....significant things, bring us memories....we decide what we allow those memories to do with and/or to us. I guess....
I think.'

I'm proud of the control I've had lately. I am. I'm proud that my act of cyber voyeurism gave me no feels. I'm disappointed that I did it. I didn't even try to stop it, I just did it and got it over with....

I'm human.
Shit happens....

I loved him.
I still remember him.

I forgive him tho.....
and will continue my journey, getting stronger each day....