Let me preface this blog… by saying… this is something that I handwrote while I cried. It’s not for you, it’s not for your judgement, it’s not for your comments. *However, you are welcome to comment if you would like.* It’s personal. It is for me. I merged two blogs into this one…

I cried today. I cried for Barack Obama. I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers. I cried for myself. I cried for Black people or African Americans. I cried for history. Today I sat on the couch and I cried. And I didn’t fully understand why the tears began or where they came from… but as they shed, it was revealed to me.

I cried for Barack Obama because I understand the loss of a grandmother.  My grandmother passed away in 2004 and to this day, I miss her very much. As he stood at the podium and paid homage to his own grandmother… “She was the cornerstone of our family and a woman of extraordinary accomplishment, strength, and humility… a quiet hero”… I couldn’t contain the tears that flowed at the memory of my own. My grandmother was a servant of many, a homemaker, a seamstress, a nurse to her children and her children’s children, a friend, an advice-giver, a soul-food cooking chef, a lender (*and my grandmother was not WEALTHY, but she always had a stash… so maybe she was wealthy in her own right). My grandmother was someone I aspired to be and still do. She was a loving wife, a master mother, and a strong sister. She cared for her family, friends, and even her enemies (though few). My grandmother. I cried as he cried today for his grandmother. Because I understood the love he felt for her, that love that moved him to tears even while he spoke to the adoring crowd. Those tears that trickled his face… trickled down mine as well. So I cried for him. Because I have the luxury to cry in private. I have no crowd waiting for me to speak. I have no flights scheduled for me as I journey across the states to scrounge up the last voters I can. I have no eyes upon me. I have no audience waiting for me to make a mistake. But he does. And he’s still going. He’s resilient. He’s brave. He’s educated. He’s hopeful. He’s proud. And he should be. He is apart of history. (Imagine that. History.)

I cried for myself because I did my part. I voted. I picked a side. I believed in the choice I made. I believe in my candidate. I’m not Republican, I’m not a Democrat. I pick who moves me, which candidate’s policies I believe in… I picked. Can you say the same? I pick who I want to win and who I believe will lead America in the direction I believe America should be going. I voted. I waited my turn and was happy to wait in line. For my turn to stand at the ballot and choose for myself. I didn’t want anyone choosing for me. I chose. Did you? Because I don’t want to hear comments/gripes/statements of any sort from someone who disagrees with the Presidential nominee who wins and you didn’t even vote. Don’t attempt to vote. Don’t try to get there. DO IT. Period. DO IT. I cried because I did it. And I’m so wonderfully happy that I did.

I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers who are no longer here to see this day. As powerful a time this is. I don’t see how anyone cannot vote. Imagine the countries where people don’t even have the option to vote. Imagine the time when WOMEN couldn’t dare vote. Imagine the day… when black people gave their lives for the OPTION. Now look at today. Women and black people are voting. They are planning to vote. They are excited to wait in line for hours… all day in places… just to get the chance to vote. My grandmothers and grandfathers are not here to see this day. They have all passed and went to a better place. But imagine the look on their faces to see this day. Imagine how proud they would be to see so many people wanting to vote and waiting to vote and VOTING?!?! I cried for them because I am here and I did my part. I cried for them because I simply miss them. And I would love to be able to come home and say “I voted Granny/Mu’deah/Grandpas.” But I can’t so I cried because I couldn’t. I cried for grandmothers and grandfathers all over the world who are no longer here. Simply because they are still loved.

I cried for Black people… because so many of us aren’t even acknowledging the history of this Election. “1. The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude. February 26, 1869.” Think about the people who were injured or lost their lives just to add that line to the constitution (and even when it was added, there was always intimidating ways to keep black people from doing so). I cried for those of us that won’t even vote… simply because “they don’t want to… their vote won’t matter”.  The single act of being able to vote is taken for granted by so many. There are people on probation wishing they could vote… and some of us don’t vote still. How many celebrities will it take to say something to us? How many family members have to drag us out to get registered and pick us up to make sure our vote counts? How easy it must be to be so careless. How hard it must be to realize you mattered… too late. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to be apart of this. Why you wouldn’t want to even have a say. No matter how you voted. Why wouldn’t you want to vote… SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU COULD!? Because history was built on moments like this. Because history will continue to be built on moments like this.  And I don’t want to be a ranting woman… but… Don’t you want to be apart of what could be history? Don’t you want to have a say in what happens to your life for the next 4 years? Don’t you want to be apart of the continuance of history that people died for? What’s wrong with people like this.

Today I cried.

OBAMA WON THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION!!!

“I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.I have a dream today.”

“And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. ” - MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.

We’re on our way Martin. On our way. No we are not there completely… but we are on our way. And I thank you for seeing the dream. I thank you for letting it be known that the dream would come true. I have seen it for you. I have seen it with your children. I have seen it with my parents and family. I have seen that dream come true in front of my eyes. And as the tears flow… it’s not simply for tonight. My tears are for history. My tears are for dreams. My tears are for the moments that register. And if you cannot look at the history made tonight… and feel something…. then… I feel sorry for you. I wish you could feel what I feel. So much was lost for this dream, for this possibility. And if you feel nothing… I cry for you too.

I look forward to telling my children about this historic event. This event I NEVER IMAGINED WOULD HAPPEN IN MY TIME… and I am 26 yrs old!!!! I’m young. And I never thought it would happen IN MY TIME!?!? Look at the world we live in. Look at it for what it is. And recognize the history. Recognize the future that will come. Recognize… Open your eyes and see history. And be proud that you were apart of it. Be proud that you were here. Be proud that you didn’t have to give up anything to see it come true while you were on this earth.

We’re on our way Malcolm, on our way Rosa, on our way Medgar. We’re on our way… for all who gave their life for moments like this. Our president is a black man. History. And I am utterly happy. I am truly elated. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t stop the emotions. And I know when he speaks… I will tremble. I will feel his words in the pit of my soul. And I am here. I never thought. I never thought. I NEVER thought. And it is here. And I respect McCain for his words, although I don’t respect his audience. I respect McCain for giving a well-written speech. America is beautiful. America is growing. America is learning. America is evolving. And I am apart of it, just like you are. And that means something to me. I cry for you… because even if you don’t feel it. I do. I feel it for you. So let my tears become your own. Let my tears pour for you. Imagine them. Let them be your own. I am simply proud to be an American today. And there were moments when I thought America was beginning to fail me, still failing my people. And this. Is hope. HOPE. One simple man… created such hope… Yes we can.

If you feel nothing… It’s okay. I cried for you too.

So… I was given some prompts to help aid my writing styles. Three pics that were given to me from Mr. Parker that I took and let speak to me. Instead of waiting for that right moment, instead of waiting for that perfect inspiration. I let the pictures speak to me and this is what came to be. Feel free to comment. 

 -THE KEY #1

Let your soul melt into my soul and I will give you the key to unlock my being/Transfuse your spirit with mine and from my pores your core is seeping/Inhale the essence of my aura and yours becomes the reason I breathe/Shadows of your kissprints and ghosts of my lipstick tango across our bodies/As passion rests upon my hue like morning dew/I willingly decoded the mystery of myself for you/Unlocking my womb for our future/With each beat of your heart, my own you skillfully suture/With each gaze from your eyes, the words whisper from your mind to mine/Even when there are no words to be heard you comprehend them just fine/The idea that created equations stemmed from us… yes, WE/Because U + I = infinite love X eternity/My lifeline was created to intertwine with your lifetime/My waters could never nourish the seed without your pipeline/You merged into me and we unocked our being with the very same key/You were created for one purpose… to be apart of me.

               - DISCOVERY #2

This black cloud of uncertainty looms above me/I question why my words connect and reflect what I just dont see/An artist? I’m not she/She’s never been me/We’ve never been we/But as I dug down deep into the cavern of my emotions/I was quickly overwhelmed by the discovery I was approaching/Artistry is not a thing/It’s not a job, not a dream/Not a feeling, fading from my reach/Yet artistry was resurrecting itself within me/I’m finding her/The lonely woman that doesn’t acknowlegde her worth/The optomistic girl that believes there’s still good in this earth/The batter, bruised/The misused, abused, refused, and confused/They all forge the same path/Walk the same dark alley/All hearts beat as one and pass blood through the same arteries/They share sensations, revelations/ tears, fears/ joys, boys/ pains and gains/And it’s true they all share the same name. ARTISTRY. Artistry is inside me because she is me/This was my discovery.    

 - SOME THINGS # 3

So I have been wondering… what’s the big deal with Mr. Right? I mean… is Mr. Right Now so terrible? And maybe that is a weird question to ask, but… is it really that weird? Women live their lives hoping and praying that Mr. Right will come charging through on his great white steed and save the day when sometimes Mr. Right Now can do the same. I haven’t fallen into the “Men are dogs” category… but I am cautious and I move forward with extreme caution when it comes to the male gender. I mean, what’s wrong with simply letting Mr. Right Now be Mr. Right Now?

Women so easily want Mr. Right and will force that title onto any and EVERY man who comes their way. I guess it falls back onto the fairy tales we’re told and believe in when we are young, you know where the girl is always deserving of a Prince and they live happily ever after. And because women are wanting this Prince… we allow ourselves to be easily fooled into believing that the man we are with COULD BE Mr. Right that we settle for any and every kind of treatment from him. We pretend to be dumber than we are so he can always be right…? We pretend to be done with an argument so he can have the last word…? We settle. We subtract the bad things rather than compiling them and seeing why we shouldn’t be with him because we so badly want him to be Mr. Right.

Instead of acknowledging that he is Mr. Right Now. Because hell, no way is a woman supposed to allow a Mr. Right Now into her life, right? That’s morally absurd, eh? You might as well call her a whore! And there can be a lot of Mr. Right Now’s that women cling hold of and make Mr. Right. Because it’s nice to have someone to come home to. Nice to have someone on Valentines. Nice to have in-house… you know. Hell, it’s nice to have someone period, right? But having anyone is just not the same as HAVING someone who truly makes your heart flutter, your knees get weak, you get nervous when you see them so sometimes you stutter… All of that is gone when you just allow anyone into your life and hope you can MOLD them into Mr. Right. If you are accepting of him being just that and not trying to make him Mr. Right… just allowing him to be Mr. Right Now…. what’s wrong with that?

*And no, I don’t have a Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now… Just wondering. Any thots?

Seemed like the longest day. Even today doesn’t seem to be progressing, even though I know that it is. It’s weird. And I didn’t even blog!?!? Or did I?

Don’t you hate conversations… that are pointless? I mean, I don’t care how much fun you had last night. I don’t care what you did. Or who you were with. I really just don’t care. Is that bad of me? I mean, I wasn’t invited to these wonderful festivities, not that I would have went even if I was. But do you have to call me with the updates of your fun times? Do I really seem that interested? I know I don’t. I know I have the ‘I-Dont-Give-A-Fuck’ tone… so catch it please and end the nonsense for my sake. Today is just not the day.

So last night. My friend called me at 7:30 to ask me to pick her up at 8:00. WTH? First of all… Grey’s Anatomy comes on at 8 and she knows this. And she knows I’m a fan. Secondly… you don’t call nobody and ask them to pick you up in 30 mins. Nobody can tell me that she just suddenly found out that she was getting off in 30 mins. And why am I the selected person she called, when she hadn’t even talked to me more than 10 mins all week? FRIENDS…. MR.SHOW…  BOO FRIENDS!   And even though gas is what 2.02 here… the 10 bucks she offered wasn’t enough to drive 30 mins away, pick her up from her job, take her another 10 mins away to her house and return the 30 mile journey back home. Maybe it’s me. MAYBE it’s me. But friends… boo to them when they are not real. I could rant on her for a while, but I won’t do that… MR. INSIDE… think of Dan-yeezy… and that’s her in a nutshell fareal! Pregnancy stories and all! But…

Now don’t confuse it. I am a people person. I love people. I love meeting people, conversing with people, laughing with people… all kinds of fun things with people. But hell sometimes… I like to be by my damnself. No phone, no computer, no texts…. just me and my good book or my good movie and it’s not because I’m antisocial. I just get tired of being the leaning post. The listening ear. The tissue grabber. The complaint box.   Then when I need to have anyone be those same things… Poof! The same people who needed me, are no where to be found… Friends… Mr. Show… How many of us have them? Don’t confuse it. I have friends. Real friends… I got maybe 6 of em. People who say they are my friends… prolly hundreds! People who know me… could be thousands. I’ve lived in Florida, Dallas, Houston. I’ve visited NY, Philly, Washington, Cali, Cinncy, Bahamas, I’ve met people… exchanged info with people… all over the US… And if I visited where they live, I’d hang with them. I’d meet up with them. But does that make them my friend? Most likely not.

And now… I am actually involved in a conversation I want to be in… Obama/McCain talk. I won’t include you all because we all know how those go. By the way… I voted. Have you? Or are you in a city without early voting? And another thing… if you are voting for McCain over Obama simply because you don’t want a black man to be in office… bc “white is good and black is bad”… YOU ARE WACK. And if you are voting for Obama simply because he’s black… YOU’RE WACK-ER. And if you think Palin will be a great president in the event that McCain passes away… YOU ARE THE WACK-EST! And this is not a political blog either. So don’t hit me with the politics… I won’t go there with anyone.

I have been feeling really old lately. I’m not as old as I feel but I feel old none-the-less. So when exactly is a person old? When she can no longer do “the stanky leg” or whatever the latest dance craze is? And I don’t know how to do the “stanky leg” or the “harlem shake” or the “chicken noodle soup” or none of those retarded lookin’ dances because of that reason. I think they are retarded and you look silly doing them, note to ppl who do those dances at the club and think they are cute! YOU ARE NOT and the DANCE DOES NOT MAKE YOU HOT! So please for the sake of all the other ppl in the club secretly laughing at you or laughing at you on the inside – STOP.

But I digress. I sat on the back porch last night talking to my little brother who is 22… and I said “man, I feel old.” He shrugged it off as me joking but on the inside I felt like a 67 year old grandmother and I don’t even have kids! I see all these young girls and guys and I remember. I remember. REMEMBER? Like it was so long ago. And I attribute my fast aging to living such a fast life when I was younger. I partied and partied and partied and partied… I partied so much… when I was in school ppl would ask me what was the happening things for the weekend!?! Odd… But I was cool. And cool was the thing to be then I guess. So when exactly is old? When you can no longer touch your toes without your knees cracking? Not there yet. When you can no longer do all the wild positions sexually without being exasperated too soon?? Not there yet either. So when is old? Someone tell me. Because I really feel old and I am only in my mid 20s… A lady never tells! (But it shouldn’t be hard to find out either)

Do I feel old because the thing to do now is get married when you are 21? And I am not married?!?

*Is that a bad reflection of me? I consider myself to be really picky… and not accepting of any and everything from any and every one but…  to that!*

Am I old because the thing to do now is have 3 kids by the time you are my age? And I don’t have any?

*Another could be bad reflection of me… But I don’t want to be someone’s baby mama either! Nor do I want a baby daddy who can’t pay his child support because he doesn’t have a job or has 3 other kids he’s paying support on but…  to that!*

Am I old because young boys have a thing for me?

*Isn’t that what they say? Young boys tend to go after older women for whatever reason? Albeit… young boys can be really fun sometimes, but I’m not in the business of being someone’s mother or teacher…. A big  to that!*

So when exactly is old? Is it the point between 20 and 30 or  30 and 40? 40 and 50? But.. if 40 is the new 30 and 30 is the new 20? Is 20 the new 10 then….? And that’s just a big steaming pile of horse manure! I said it, I said it. And I mean it. So old… to me… is that point when everyone seems younger than you! When everything seems like you’re too old to do! When you outgrow the habits of your youth and start being a grown up! When you enjoy watching the news and watch it repeatedly! When you become a CNN junkie and even while you watch something else… always flip back during commercials!*Am I the only CNN junkie in Xangaland?* When the days seem short because you do nothing but the same things everyday… get up, go to work, come home, cook dinner, eat dinner, wash dishes, catch a show/read a book, take a bath, catch the news so you can see what the weather is going to be the next day, plan your work outfit for the next day, pray, go to bed and repeat (times the number of days you work)! When the club is boring! When the party scene itself is too tiring to even think about! When you have a savings account with an actual amount of money in it!

When you become an adult… Do you then become old? Hmm…

Another installment of poe-tree…

-ING (A suffix)

I am existing

without you I’m just living

like the sands in the hourglass sifting

from one corner to another trickling

back and forth every time flipping

my emotions like a trapeze artist dangling

between don’t want to be alone and alone fearing

the ability to love again fleeting

is the thought of being loved drifting

like the idea of you completing

me disliking you because my lips wont form to say I hate you    

unfitting when I don’t, I just am                                                   

venting because I wish I could be unrelenting

but its not me, I’m too forgiving

when it comes to you, you are addicting

like a drug I began injecting

you into my body and now I’m a fiend needing

you so badly it hurts wanting

your love neglecting

me so I’m alone, you were one half and I was depending

on our unity to make it… I am believing

that it’s all a fallacy and that I’m not just waiting

on a love that is incapable of truly being

what it was, but you and I are changing

into strangers and we’re no longer trickling

from one corner to another sifting

like the sands in the hourglass living

without you I’m just existing.

© 2/7/04 ISLYmore

So.. Mr.Big Show asked me… a very personal question…about a very personal thing. And initially I was gonna juss dismiss the thought of even responding bc it was so very close to my heart, but alas. Here I am pondering about the very thing. I’ll sum it up with two words… Broken Woman, hence the title of the blog. And yes, it will be long! So read if you want, skip if you don’t.

…Vol I… ALIAS 

A distant yet constant memory. See Mr. A and I first began to know each other in 2001. I was a freshman at FAMU at the time (no, I never finished school there or anywhere, but one day, maybe), now Mr. A was an artist – a rapper to be precise. And while every other female wanted to know his alias, I wanted to know him. Not the rapper, not the hood star, not the handsome dude… I wanted to know the man behind all that. And I thought I had him. I thought he was mine. I thought what we had was the beginning of something wonderful. Because when he looked at me, the world stopped moving around us and there was no one else in it with me, but him. And I’m sure most women can understand that. It was as if we were all that there was, when he smiled… Shoot… I melted. And not that gushy legs wobbly melted. It was that… I melted into his being. We became inseperable. We were instantly linked. In ways I had never been linked before. I almost let this guy take my virginity… hell, I would have if he wasn’t… nevermind. Anyway… we will call him Alias. Now Alias was what I thought I wanted in a guy. He was 6’5, dark skinned, braided hair, beautiful white teeth, no kids, 2 yrs older than me… Alias had a way of helping me let go of all the bad from men and believing in them again… Which is extremely hard for a woman after being burned by a man before. Now don’t get me wrong, I had my fair share of entertainment at FAMU… until he came along, I saw no one else but him and if I did see them, they failed in comparison! I was his muse. I was his backbone. I sat and listened to his raps and helped him fix what didn’t work. I was there. Wholly and fully. And he was my missing piece. He could make me smile, laugh, giggle, and grin just by saying hello. He had that power over me and I liked it. I won’t pretend like I didn’t.

Then the school year came to an end, I was going home for the summer break. And I knew it would be hard to maintain a long distance relationship… not impossible, but hard. And it was. But I stuck it out and I was under this blind belief that he was too. Of course, he wasn’t but I had no clue. I was young, I believed he wouldn’t hurt me, simply because he promised never to. And those I love you’s… man… those I love you’s. Were real. There was no doubt and I am really intuitive. Always have been. So for me to say there was no doubt, there was really not a single shread of it. Zoom forward some, he comes to visit me by choice, I didn’t ask him, he asked me if it was cool and I agreed. So he came to visit me… A week. He came from Florida to Dallas to visit me and I was estatic. My man was coming to town…. and boy did he come. I showed him how great Dallas was, we visited everything we could visit, drank, had great times. I even had a friend for his lil brother who also came for him and they did their thing. So after the week passed… AND I STILL MAINTAINED MY VIRGINITY… I knew he genuinely loved me or at least, he wasn’t just “loving me” for the poonani… See I have always been a poet, I have always been able to express myself through words so before he left, I wrote him a simple note in his rap book. Mind you this is a book that no other female has ever even had her hands on… the one and only with rythmes dating back to hell 1998 in it… and I held it in these small hands like it was the Holy Grail. Imagine me?! Yeah. So I wrote in it. I left my mark in the book, not because I was being a typical female and marking my territory, but because I knew he had potential to be a star and I wanted him to know that I had that absolute faith in him and I would always have that faith in him and of course… I loved him. Then he went home. And like a girl, I cried during the goodbyes. We kissed publicly, because again, we were the only people that existed then like before. (Now I say publicly bc I hate PDA’s and hate seeing them too!) He went home. 

Then hell hit and rocked me to my core. A week later… I get a phone call which was random, because it was from a number I didn’t know. But the area code as his so I assumed he was calling me from maybe his mom’s house or something. I answer it… and lo n behold… you guessed it. It’s a bitch! Not just any bitch… but HIS bitch, she says. We’ll call her Lil Mermaid. She wanted to know who I was and why did I write in his rap book, because she doesn’t even get to touch it… but she found it snooping in his room. Lil Mermaid stole my number from his caller ID and called me! And I was 19 yrs old. I didn’t believe in that kinda drama. I didn’t even really know how to react. Because in that singular moment, my heart broke. Into tiny fragments. Into minute little shreds. Here I am, the side chick? Couldn’t be, right? So I asked who she was… Lil Mermaid told me her name and that “she was his woman, he drives her car, and she gave him the money to come see me. So who the hell was I and why was I so important?” But I had to keep it together because who was she to call me anyway? Then Lil Mermaid tells me, not only is she is woman but he doesn’t think she knows but she knows he has not one, but TWO other bitches he deals with there too! So I politely told her… Hell, seems like you need to check yo man then. Yo dude came all this way to eat me boo and thass all he did. So why you worried bout me – thousands of miles away – and you got two bitches at home you need to be concerned with? Then she flipped it and hit me with the “I’m juss tryna tell you. One woman to another” biz… I ended the call… He called when he got home and played dumb like Lil Mermaid hadn’t hit him with the scoop… and he juss wanted to talk to me. So I told him what it was, I didn’t tell him then how I felt. But then he calls a couple days later… to tell me, Lil Mermaid was pregnant with his child. And then I finally broke. This man that I envisioned having my first child with… was already going to be a daddy with someone else. And for the longest time, we didn’t speak. I didn’t speak to him at least. He emailed, he called. I ignored. It hurt too much. The pain was constant and I relived it everytime he would speak to me. But now… his son is going on 5 I think. And he has a girlfriend he loves and has pics with all over the internet… And I’m really happy for him. We are still really good friends, but I finally got the courage to admit to him how I felt then THIS YEAR and he apologized and we’ve moved forward. …I bet she doesn’t know he still tells me he loves me everytime we talk.  

I try not to be a double poster and all… but I mentioned to him that I posted poetry… and then I realized I had only posted one poem… So… here’s another one for you!

i slept in your t-shirt just 2 be close 2 u/  but the emptiness i felt/ 
only proved what I knew 2 be true/  because even your shirt was cold/ 
and your scent no longer remained/  only the reminder of the pain u caused/ 
and the tears I cried, now stains/ 
memories of how my thoughts traveled miles 2 met yours many times/ 
only 2 find out later, that all of your thoughts were lies/ 
or… how I felt u even while u were away/ 
but between someone else’s legs was where u lay/ 
or… the way I closed my eyes every time your lips met mine/ 
only to find my kisses were with a stranger and I never should have been so 
blind 2 believe the picture u painted 4 me/  WAS JUST THAT…/ 
an image u airbrushed to let me see/ 
half of u was never what I asked for only what I received…./ 
AND I KNOW THAT NOW/ 
after yrs of pretending I knew that your love was just for me/ 
it pains me deeply because now I really can see/
that 4 me, you’ll never change/ 
and every morning u wake up and your pattern remains the same/ 
and I’m stuck in this cycle because I’m a fool/ 
THAT LOVES/ 
with all that I am and all that I can/ 
and I gave all of that 2 u, because I thought u were my man/ 
u robbed me of all I had/
…every tingle from your touch/
…every closed eye kiss/
…every need 2 just… c u/ 
U STOLE ALL OF THIS… 
because u never were real/
…so every bead of sweat I dropped on u/ 
…every tear I shed 4 u/ 
…and every minute I spent thinking of u/ 
WAS NEVER REALLY MEANT 4 U/ 
and even though I know this now to 2 true…. 
I still slept in your t-shirt just 2 be close 2 u. 

© 2/22/05  ISLYmore

I would have never thought it would happen to me. I don’t understand how it could happen to someone like me. I’m qualified, I’m an overachiever, I work hard and I work hard for others as well. And here I sit… home… middle of the afternoon… in front of the computer screen and here I am…

Confused.

Lost.

Unraveling.

I’ve been R.I.F.’d and for the first time since I was 18 yrs old, (I’m about to be 27)… I don’t have a job and no immediate source of income. I filed for unemployment, wont even get that until mid-November, and its 700 less than what I normally would make a month. Not that I am complaining about it, but I don’t know how to sit at home with no where to go or no job to go to everyday. I don’t know how to not have a paycheck. It would be an entirely different thing if I was not the most apt person in my department, I learned things about the systems the District used that I didn’t have to, but I chose to know how things worked so that if needed, I could teach someone else. And I got R.I.F.’d?? I get I was the youngest in my department and I likely had the least amount of years in my department – but I had worked for the same District since I was 18! I trained my boss on his job!! Ppl would bypass my boss and come to me for help because I was that knowledgeable. And I’m R.I.F.’d? And I don’t dislike the District, I understand business is business and I was on the shorter end of the years employed stick. I get it.

But here I sit… at home… middle of the afternoon… in front of the computer screen… and here I am…

Searching all the websites, getting the paper, making the calls, faxing my resume to companies and for what? Zilch? Nada? Still without a job and watching the news doesn’t make it any better! Hell – the economy is in the shitter! Layoffs are accruing massive numbers these days. And I have no job just like the next person who was R.I.F.’d. And for those who don’t know what R.I.F. means… its a fancy way of saying - ‘You’re fired!’… no, it means Reduction In Force… and you’re still fired!

Maybe you will catch the rhythym… maybe you won’t. It shouldn’t be too hard. But if it is, oh well. Figure it out. And please don’t duplicate this work… it is mine and no one else’s. If you’ve seen it, I am the author, always have been.

He Was My End Before I Even Began

He was my end before I even began to believe in love

Before I even knew what all it consists of

And

Before I even became to be

He completed me like water nourishes the seed

Like the air completes the earth

I bleed him internally

He was… with me since birth love…

My Creator

See he gave his rib

So I could have all twelve of these

We breathe

Each other

My Adam

His Eve… See

His soul completes

Every bit of me

His heart beats doubly

One for me and one for himself

We are each other’s wealth

Accruing thru time

He makes me feel like fine wine

And even then he was the grape

That gave his life to create me

He was my end before I even began to want a love

See back when boys were the enemy

And little girls had cooties

He was immune to my disease -I’ve always been his only

See

He needs to breathe and I inhale FOR him

I love him more than love can explain it herself

We

Are our own individual planet

Just he and just me

We

Are the perfect yin yang

We

Are complete

He was my end before I even began to feel the tingles

I get every time I see him

I dreamed of him ever since I could dream

He’s been apart of me

Even before I had time to understand living

I craved him

Couldn’t be without him

He was my best friend

So don’t think I’m crazy for talking so strange

Since I was speaking a language

That only he… and I speak

And even if I was deaf, dumb, AND blind…

He would hear, learn, and see FOR me

He was my end before I even began to know what love isn’t

Instead of what I thought it was

These feelings for him

Have been buried for eternity

Only for him to find

As his were meant just for me

He is my second to every minute

Without him- there is no time

There is no place

There is no memory

Because he is all that matters to me…

My KING and I am his COUNTRY

I am his all and he is my everything

He was my only and I was his infinitely

Because he…

Was always my ending even before I had a beginning.

© 7/23/05 ISLYmore