I went to bed tossing and turning last night contemplating whether or not I would call you. Some niggas need to be on ignore mode, but at this point, after protocol was already established, you wanna go and act stupid, were we not just on cloud nine less than 72 hours ago? My brain can not handle another crack, for I am already fragile and operate in an constant state of inadequacy. I'm insecure, I will always be. You can change some things, but one that no one can change is the fact that we will never be 100% secure in who we are as people because we always change.
Last night...I polished the entire bottle of Moet Nectar. Bent out of my mind. I hit the bong twice, maybe three times to add to the flair and instantly I felt the need to say all of the things I wanted to say...you say you love me for who I am, but the blatant disrespect in the form of a test of loyalty infuriates me more than Ike Turner high on coke in the 70's trying to make a hit for Sue Records. An already fragile brain cant take it...
So I called - and you said you would call me back, we both knew that was a lie, so I rolled over and watched my tape of Star Jones Show and Janet on Oprah. I went to bed and dreamed about you...I dreamed that I told you all the things I wanted to and told you how I really felt but something told me when I wake up, just forget about it and move on.
All of this means something...It means to keep paying attention to myself. I realized that every time I embark on a new project something always comes and distracts me. I won't let that happen this time. I am extremely tired of arguing, fighting, going through the motions...with people. I refuse to relinquish my power to those who don't know what they want or where to go or mad because I am focused...or at least try to be, no, because I am.
I need balance in my life. Something constant. I don't need anyone who is more moody than a woman on the rag or a bitter queen who can't find any happiness in anything.
Sometimes I think I try too hard. Sometimes I don't try enough. But just when I put in the effort, the work...the plane crashes...and I walk away with the burns, I keep forgetting to pack my aloe vera.
This weekend it's about me. I am going to go to the beach, pack a bottle in my bag...and work on my new book. Fuck these people.
I am one step away from packing my glock. Somebody better ring the alarm for these people.
Oh...and thank you...we're all in this together.