I knew when you left that you’d forget about me. That you’d never come visit like you constantly reminded me you would. One day at work we while we’re talking you promised me that you’ll come visi and you wouldn’t forget.
If there’s any one person in this world who knows life has a tendency to take over, carrying you along with it, then it would be me. Now knowing that. Know this to! You really had me believing the words that came out of your mouth as they rolled off your tongue.
The fucked up thing about it all though. . .
With every word you spoke from your mouth, swearing to me that you’d keep your word, I felt it. It really felt like you were being sincere.
Keeping it real.
I believed you’d do exactly what you said you’d do.
I believed for some fucking reason (a reason beyond me, and one I’m sure I’ll never figure out) that somehow I’d be different. That one certain different ‘female’. Different in all the best ways you could possibly think of out of any other female you’ve ever met up with.
That’s how you made me feel anyways. That I was that ‘one’ chick you could admit was different. But you let her get away. Maybe even regret not taking that chance.
Listen at me tell it.
Trying to make the decision seem like it’s all up to you. Here I am, married and we just reached that comfortable point between us. I’d never of been able to make that choice on my own. After all, you played a huge influence whether you ever even realized it or not.
Hell, I haven’t felt those type of feelings since I was way younger. I look at it now and see it almost like a school girl crush.
Remember when I’d come up behind you placing my hands on the tops of your tense shoulders. Only they became loosened, relaxing you to the point you could of fallen asleep standing in front of me with your head laid on my shoulder. The lingering scent of the shampoo from my hair driving you ten kinds of crazy.
Even your bodies reaction to my touch knew before you, yourself ever realized how close you were to me and how comfortable you became. You began confiding in me that you ain’t felt ‘this’ feeling since you let your first real love get away.
Then it happened. . .
You were there working one day. Then gone and being marked off the schedule the next.
Coming into work knowing you weren’t there, whether you were just scheduled off or after you were gone, seemed to cause the time to drag. God how fucking slow it went by. There were so many days I’d come in and you wouldn’t be working that day, and I found myself wishing I’d have called in.
Fuck it! I didn’t wanna be there when you weren’t because those were some of the most boring days ever.
It was a few months later and I was on my way home from work when I decided to check my voicemail. I knew it was probably damn near full if not already, so I wanted to listen and delete all of them except the ones from my momma. I want to keep those, just in case I lost her, god forbid.
Then all of a sudden I heard a man’s voice that was extremely familiar and one that I missed hearing so much. A tingle of excitment went all throughout my body. Not because it was a man’s voice, no. Because it was your’s. That, and you said your name and where we worked. Hearing the rest of your message turned that tingle into what felt like ripples crashing against the barriers of my skin showing themselves in the form of goosbumps. All of that excitement inside of me rose up just hearing your voice after months of not hearing it.
I have no reson or valid excuse as to why I’m even writing this. It’s not like your ever gonna get to see muchless read it. Maybe I’m doing it to get it out and down on paper so you’ll no longer be stuck in my thoughts (deep, deep inside my thoughts). However, I think I’m still harboring these feelings for you. Even still now. Unbeknownst to me they decided to rear their complicated selves to me earlier this afternoon while at work.D
Dammit! That’s probably the reason right there. I was at work, where we first met, and you trained me when I first started. It wasn’t until after you had put in your two week notice that I wrote my first creative piece about you, well, us. Every time I tried reading it to you we’d be interrupted. In the end you never got to even read the words yourself before our time was spent and you were already gone.
One person that heard me reading it knew exactly who it was about without even asking. He tried to say if someone could write something as deep felt as that piece then it was clear that there were feelings involved. Deeper than either one of us had ever admitted, muchless said to one another. You already know I looked at Bruh all kinds of crazy. Shaking my head in denial so vigorously anyone in their right mind would know it was a lie from a mile away.
Honestly though? Whenever I was alone with all my rampid thoughts, I had to really think about if infat it was really true or not. Don’t get me wrong. I’d have loved nothing more than for that to be true for both of us. Sadly however, that’s not the reality of all of it.
I knew with all of me (because I felt it) that when you were looking me in the eyes, you seen my soul. And you knew the whole truth about me, and that I was nothing but honest with you. It was the same whenever I’d look into yours.
Both of us knowing there was enough between us that instead of seeing sparks, it was fireworks popping off and exploding eveey time we were around one another. I’m surprised neither of us had gotten burned.
Here’s what I now know it was between us. Both wanting what we knew neither of us would ever be able to have. And when I made myself aware of that, I knew I had to let you go even though you weren’t mine from jump.
When I told you good bye for that last time, the last day my eyes saw you. You whispered to me not to cry, while at the same time taking your thumb and wiping away the fallen tears from my cheek. You then pulled me into your warm embrace telling me how much you cared for me.
After we pulled apart and I noticed how watery your eyes were, I was bound and determined not to lose it right then and there. But you were more determined. Almost as soon as I noticed your watery eyes they were gone, back to normal. Making me question whether or not I ever saw it to begin with.
You took a huge inhale of breath, placing your hands on each of my arms as you slowly moved me aside to walk that mile out the back door to your baby momma.I
I excused myself to the restroom where i drilled it into myself to keep my shit together. You were never even mine to begin with. So, why did it hurt so much seeing you leave without so much as a backwards glance. At me, or anyone else for that matter.I
I’m glad we were honest with each other about ‘us’ from the very start. If we hadn’t of been you might not have told me that you truly do care about me. Leaving me to wonder all the ‘what-if’s’ and coulda, woulda, shoulda’s.
Not too long ago I saw you while we were driving down the road. You were on your little motorcycle. Oh, how i wanted to stop and fill you in on everything I felt I needed to catch you up on.I
It was so good to hear your voice. And even though I didn’t stop to chit chat, it was so good seeing you. God! You looked so fucking good. Always so fresh and so clean.
Until the day we cross paths again sweety! May God Bless you and keep you and yours safe.
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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