Why Do I Write?

I tend to ask myself this question on a regular basic; Why do I write? Every time the response seems different. I write because it’s me. I write to express. I just write. Then there are the other parts that I don’t talk about, like how hard it can be sometimes. So many think that it comes so easy to me to be able to make up stories or just simple express myself in verse, but it’s hard work. I hate having to force myself to write because it seems like nothing comes out right. I like for things to flow. Writing involves a lot of discipline, something that I lack just a bit. I want to write everyday, I feel that I could have tremendous growth if I did. I know I would. It’s just so difficult at times when life takes control.

But then I think, what if I couldn’t write anymore, and panic arises. This motivates me to remember my true love for writing. If I couldn’t express myself through words, there would be chaos from the inside out. I think way too much about everything and everyone. My mind moves faster than I can truly keep up, writing slows it all down, for just a moment when I can get some understanding before she speeds back up once more. So I write, because it bring joy to my soul and a calmness to my spirit. Because “there is a voice within me that will not be still” -Sylvia Plath

Hello Universe,

I have missed you all. So much has been going on in my life right now. So much that I couldn’t even come close to trying to express to you exactly what’s been happening. But I will try. Starting today, things will be different. I plan on posting more and more. When I first decided to make this blog, I had no idea of what It would become or what it was at the time. All I saw was a start, I had one reason for the start and it was because I was shy. I needed to be okay, comfortable with being so “naked.” You know, the world would know what I thought about, what was in my heart. I would be vulnerable. But I slowly started to realize that I wasn’t giving you all of me. Only some. Really not even that. So starting today, I want to express to you everything. I’ve come to realize that I have so much to say. I have so many opinions and ideas that I want to express. whether not or it’s read, I want to do this for me. I was told that I am at the age where I am trying to figure out who I am exactly and I agree that that has started. I’ve always wanted to know who I was, am. What I am capable of. I was told that I couldn’t learn who I am from any book or website. I was told that what I needed to know was already inside me, I just needed to shut and listen. So one day, recently I did just that. She spoke to me. The tiny, big voice inside of me showed me that my voice, her voice, our voice was everything. She showed me that in order for me to get to know myself, I had to shut up and relinquish control and let her run free. she would be the Author and I, meaning the physical me, would be the pen. There’s so much in store for everyone including myself. This may seem confusing to some, but in time you’ll begin to see because I am beginning to see. Clarity.

I would like to shine light on an amazing women that I was blessed to have met. She illuminated the path for me that I was already on. She still is. They way she speaks about what she believes in, the way that passion itself oozes off of her, has me on the edge of my seat. This women is influential to me. She’s inspiring to me. She educates me and opens doors to myself that I truly had know idea existed within me. She continues to amaze me, challenge me, push me farther out of the societal box that we “slip” into and she will continue to do just that, as well as, guide me to whom I am meant to become. I am truly honored to have met such a strong, beautiful, intellectual, Black Woman, who loves herself freely, wholly, and deeply spiritually. She’s like a big sister to me, well in the process of becoming that. So thank you Dr. Rita Best. You are a force to be reckoned with.
So Universe, I hope you’re ready because big things are well on they’re way.

Sequentem Tempore,  (Latin for “Until next time”)
My Loves.

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A Word Of Substance

padPhotograph by Tom Haynes: http://www.craigativity.wordpress.com

Dear Starkness, my old friend,

You weren’t so desperate when we first met. Your body was pregnant with the possibility of adventure. All I had to do was think and you came to life. So eager were you to expose the markings of my ink that I turned red. Now when I try, everything comes out stale. You ruined it. You made me your everything just so you could stare blankly into space while I tried. And I tried so hard.

– a crimson pen

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My heart hurts. It has been hurting for a very long time now.  I can’t breathe. The tears of my pain are making their way down my blushed cheeks. Trying to hold them in because I am not alone, is getting tougher and tougher as the minute goes by. I’m Back in this cold familiar place again that its almost homey. Its normal now. But I don’t want to get use to being like this or having this with me for as long as I live. I’ve been a victim for so long and I’m tired. How many times do I need to fight. How long will I last before I finally throw in the towel?

I am HAUNTED by my memory. She has me as her PRISONER. Wanting so bad to let go and move on, but can’t because the second I close my eyes the ones who have PLAGUED me, and TAUNTED me live behind my eyes. I am BROKEN, have been for a very LONG time now. But I am also STRONG which THICKENS after each battle. Just the battles seem to only grow stronger with me. I don’t want anymore obstacles, not with Depression, life has enough on it’s own. But we can’t all have what we want, now can we?

All honesty, I hate what those people did to me. I hate what you did to me. I would ask myself repeatedly why? What did I do to you? I would cry in my room at night silently because I would feel weak if I showed that it hurt me. That you broke through my Titanium shield. I want to say that I hate you for doing this to me. Every night I’d wish for an apology but know I would never get one. I can’t leave my home without looking like “Perfection” every strand of hair has to be in it’s place. Clothes have to match and fit right. I won’t go out anywhere if my hair isn’t “Perfect”. I’d sit and cry and just get frustrated with everything. Including life.

Did you know that “Perfection” doesn’t exist. It never did. It was only created for the “Magazine Girl” to make others feel that if they looked like “Her” than they are pretty close to “Perfection” THAT SHIT NEVER EXISTED. Did you know I tried sooo hard for your approval. To feel excepted and not alienated or laughed at. I hated myself for WANTING or NEEDING your approval. I HATED myself for letting your words get to me. And worse of all, for LETTING you do this to me. I don’t want to be STUCK in the PAST! I hate it. But I’m here trying to claw my way out from the dried cement you poured on me.

But it wasn’t just you. I have a father, whom I had to leave in New Jersey. I was too young and he wasn’t financially stable to take care of me. I am a HUGE Daddy’s Girl. Always will be. When you were playing your games with me I would WANT and NEED him. I would CRY at night for HIM. Wishing he could be there just to comfort me. Just to hold me. Tell me that all will be okay. That you all were nothing I should worry about. Tell me that I am stronger than that. But he wasn’t there. And I didn’t blame him, I blamed myself. Why, I honestly do not know. Just did. But it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Do you know what Depression feels like? Do you have any idea what I go through on a daily basis? Not that you care when you should. YOU DISTROYED me. ENDED my life for me before I even had a CHANCE to LIVE it. It’s like having your heart ripped out from your chest and having someone or multiple someone’s cut it into pieces. pieces that can’t be put back together no matter which way you try. It’s like having so much talent in you and faith in yourself that you would take that leap and show the world what you have to offer but then hearing the laughs and taunting like an echo. A vivid echo. As if someone was there yelling directly at you, so you shy away from living your DREAMS. How would that feel for you if you couldn’t live your dream because of the shit someone put you through always played in your memory. A vivid ECHO.

I honestly thought I had completely forgiven you. I thought I let go off all the shit that was said to me. Done to me. Thought that I had finally put you on the bottom of my shoe and scrapped you off like the dirty I want to say you are. I guess I haven’t. I haven’t at all. I still can’t talk about the memories without crying or getting teary. I haven’t let go and I’m so tired of fighting. I am so tired of remembering your faces. I am just TIRED. But don’t start smiling just yet, that doesn’t me I throw in the towel. You should know me by now. I DONT GIVE UP so EASY. I am one TOUGH cookie.

Depression makes you feel ALONE even in an OCEAN of people. It’s not something to just put aside. I am a survivor, I am still SURVIVING. As much as I hate you, you made me stronger. Like Demi Lovato amazingly sang “Now I’m A WARRIOR, Now I”ve got thicker skin. I’m A WARRIOR, I’m STRONGER than I’ve EVER been. And my ARMOR is made of STEEL you CANT get IN. I’m A WARRIOR and YOU can NEVER HURT ME AGAIN.”