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So I was reading over the first letter I wrote you to my best friend, Panda. She thought at first I was going to cry. Rereading something I wrote to someone as special as you. I didn’t though. Shock factor.

So I have been talking with Mrs. Marie and her rules over her child and what he’s allowed to be around and what he’s not. Obviously no smoking around him what-so-ever. Whether it be marijuana or cigarette smoke it doesn’t matter. I also have to make sure it’s not all on my clothing when time comes for me to hold him. I promised I’d respect her wishes in regards to her son when he was born. Greg literally just woke me up so I could get ready for work this morning, and I just finished schooling him on her wishes. Granted, it’s kind of hard to not be insulted by or become defensive from her choice of words in describing what areas of my own home that aren’t good enough for her baby but was good enough for her. Naturally she, the same as I once was over her and her brother when they were babies, is very picky when it comes to the surroundings of her unborn child. I’d want nothing but the absolute best for him as well. Did she really question my competence on the matter? I’d hate to think she didn’t. If she hadn’t, I’d probably be the one questioning hers.

Greg took the wording I chose, to act defensive, when the main objective in the conversation was to make sure our house is in tip top shape and all in order for when our future grandson arrives. I told him if anything I should be the one to take any offense because she already knows that he keeps a clean house. Where as her brother and myself are usually the lazy ones. With me it’s not so bad. I only have clutter around me because I work with clutter. Loose papers and sticky notes placed in between and on top of any and every notebook I have by me. That’s the worst of it when it comes to GG’s mess. Now uncle Nikki will be all together a different patriot act. I told Greg I’d take his door off the hinges in order to make sure he kept his area of the house clean. I meant it too.

Man, Sis. I wish you were here with me. Then maybe you’d be able to help me explain to your nephew why I’m so frustrated with his lack of caring when it comes to anything related to his working or moving out. I just spent the last 25 minutes going back and forth with him on the phone, over whether or not he’s been leaving work early and why he hasn’t checked on why he ain’t got his stimulus check from the government yet. If he got his stimulus that right there is his ticket out. Why is he procrastinating so damn much? ooh! He gets my nerves riled up so much. Thinking that neither Greg nor I believe in him. I straight up told him Sis. Prove me wrong and show me and then I’ll apologize wholeheartedly to his face. Like for example: I mentioned the fact that he told me this week of work that he’d be closing every night. So I asked him why he’s been home every night before 10pm. His response was that’s the new time they close now. All new since the pandemic hit. When I worked there we didn’t close till midnight. So I told him if I’m wrong I’ll eat that but prove to me that your trying as much as you want dad to think you are. Because I know for a fact that he’s not put his all into it that’s for sure. He sleeps until his alarm goes off for him to get up to get ready for work. Only instead of waking up on his own, will continue to let his alarm beep until either his dad or myself go to his door and yell his name. Only upon which will he “jerk himself awake”. Acting like that’s the first time he’s heard it. All the while I know deep inside he’s heard it going off the whole time but only wanted to remain acting like he was sleep so he could make his dad or me go to his door and wake him up verbally instead. Like, he hears it going off, right? So if he can hear it then we should be able to hear it, right? So instead of him going on and getting up like he knows he should, does he just lay there waiting until the last minute, until he has no other choice but to go ahead and get up and get ready. I heard him come home last night. As I was laying in bed reading my book. I heard him unlock his bedroom door, then I quickly put my cigarette out and threw my cellphone under the blanket with me. No sooner had I done that, than he came into my room to see if I was awake. I left him a few cigs in a pack on the tray next to my side of the bed. He didn’t miss those let me tell ya. I’m assuming he was up late enough to smoke them all seeing in how my unopened pack was open when I woke up this morning. I called him out on everything this morning. He acted like he couldn’t believe it that I was the one saying those things to him instead of his dad. When in all actuality I should have been doing it the whole time. To be the one to light the fire under his ass to make him want to prove his father and I wrong.

I swear I think I write these things out only for me to go back and reflect on. I know I’ll not receive any comments on it. God forbid if someone reaches out in hopes for inspirational feedback from someone other than myself. It goes without saying doesn’t it Sis? Want and one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up quicker!! Of course the one with shit will. Given that’s been our entire lives ain’t it? Just sayin…

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About Post Author

BooBoo

I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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