I have an Issue- Pathetic Sundays That Holidays

I gotten used to having your around. And now that you’re busy and school is about to open again, I feel more distant from than ever. It bothers me how much it bothers me. We’re a complicated collective yes, and we’ve talked about our complicated friend-boyfriend-girlfriend-bestfriend-lovers drama a million times. We’re together but not together, we kiss, hold hands, trash talk, hug and have our own little corner of existence where we and we alone could free ourselves from the social constructs that we have often been bided by.

Now here we are in our little peace of heaven and understanding and I feel like you’re suddenly too far away.
I feel like i’ m moving while standing still and I think about you way too much in the past two weeks. You’re going on and we’re whatsappin everyday but I want you around more, I want you and I to co out and shit and I could feel like we’re actually spending time, instead of just casually at my house or waiting for me when the meeting is over.

I have an issue with wanting you around too much.
I have an issue with thinking about you at the end of all my thoughts
wondering what you’re doing and if and when you’re going to be in the vicinity of my house.

I think I need to not need you so much.
I need to just go back into the void and talk to other people.
I think I just need to shut, and make new friends.

That Feeling

There’s that feeling again. It starts with seeing the words “We need to talk” The signifier followed by a million and one mental concepts so hard and so stuffy that I find myself slowly unable to breathe. I think, ‘please God don’t let my heart break.” I look down at my chest, and I feel like it’s swollen for no reason. No good reason. I’m overreacting because in my experience those words are the beginning of me sitting on the edge of my bed asking God to take away my feelings. I’m thinking about Regina the Evil Queen from Once Upon a Time and I imagine pulling out my crimson magical, glowing heart and stuffing it in a box. Seriously, it’s hard trying to tell yourself “you’re being ridiculous, nothing’s wrong. You’re strong, you’re a survivor. You are not weak.” and then my chest just about cracks open, like someone prying it open with the other side of a hammer. it’s like my heart decides it wants to control everything while being horrible at managing, and my mind, my talks, my logic goes unheard.

I am a logical, rational thinking human being. I am a kind-hearted easy-going, romance loving young woman. I cry at all those soft moments in a movie. When Steve Rogers, Captain America visits his aged, dying love interest in the hospital, I’m looking into his blue eyes and I could feel that annoying tingling sensation that comes with a stream of tears. I’m that person in the dark of the theatre that has to look around while I try to conceal, even from my best friend sitting next to me, that I random tear escaping. The end of The Amazing Spider-Man I had to hide my face. I was silent and devastated.

So now, there’s nowhere to hide. no dark to bow my head into. No empty seat to my left that I could bend over and ‘pretend’ that i’m looking for the piece of my ticket, as I wipe my tears. Or pretend that suddenly in the freezing theater, i’m hit with a wave of heat and have to ‘wipe my face’ It’s funny when I think about it now. Even writing it makes it even more absurd. But that feeling when your chest hurts and you can’t breathe, because everything you’re hearing, everything you’re experiencing is just about to rip the world right out from under you.

I’m sitting opposite my bed, listening to music and and i’m trying to calm myself down, I’m telling myself how ridiculous i’m being, how silly and weak i am to cry at something so out of my control. I start blaming myself for getting close, too close, for allowing myself to get comfortable with my mediocre life. I blame myself for deciding that I was okay being who I was, not wanting more, not being ambitious enough or more outgoing. I blamed myself for being careless with my own feelings, trying to get my brain to snap me out of this absurd and uncomfortable feeling.

The irony is, I hate crying, but it comes so naturally to me. Sad movies they get to me, The Notebook, P.S I Love You…Ghost. It devastates me over and over again…And here I am hunched over thinking, if only I didn’t have to feel. If only I could remove my heart for a little while and then put it back later when I’m strong enough. If only I wasn’t so ‘soft-hearted’… Then the fear comes, this fear of having to go through it all over again at another time and place, I can nearly being to imagine the hurt I would have to experience time and time again…this feeling, the loss of appetite, the upset stomach, the moments when your mind just wanders over and over.
That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach and that tightness in your chest that just gets tighter when you breathe or when you fight tears more. I want to keel over and let go, but i’m afraid of the idea of me crying, it reminds me of all the times I lost something, something big, all the terrible news i was told and the pain amplifies. I just hope I can stop.

Bench Sitting

My day started off nicely. I woke up later than I was supposed to, I was oddly in a good mood, my niece’s were leaving for Paris (of which I was infinity jealous. I freaking love Paris, though I’ve never been out of the Caribbean.) It was my final exam today and I was not prepared, I had no hope for an A, but I had made my peace, I was prepared to walk the plank and swim if need be. I had been for the most part in some sort of happiness. I am now convinced this was a weird symptom of my anxiety, cause exams scare me more than anything. 

I recalled a post some great guy made on Facebook about a week ago… something about not being defined by a grade and I took it to heart because I knew all too well that all students struggle with this idea of an exam being the deciding factor of their total life worth. Yeah, so cue my awesome idea for having the words “I am not my grade!” printed on a tee. I was prepared to build my empire this way. Let’s take the shit we experience and make it an artistic statement od some sort. Anyways, my exam was at hand and I was in a mood. 

I left got in to a taxi and the driver (unknown to me as I buckled my seatbelt and said ‘good morning’) says “Morning dumping.” he asks me if I heard him, and I smile, i’m never open to conversations with strangers, but for some reason just by the way he spoke to me, I could tell he was cool. he was kind and I smiled thinking to myself yeah I must be looking good with ma headscarf on and my cool one and only film crew t-shirt” “you going shopping?” I’m like no, I have an exam and he gives me this look to which I narrate as if he would be thinking “looking so good?” I smile again. I felt awkward but awesome. We have a brief conversation about my exam, my field of study and a joke about winning the lottery. He asks “So you go give me a Bligh?” I smile shyly, “maybe” He laughs and responds “You know I now saying I would a bless you…” meaning that he would have shared some of his winnings…I think momentarily… what if he did win and we met again and he would offer. I’m thinking nope, i can’t accept his money, but at the same time I’m thinking, man i’m broke! Lord knows the lottery would be a blessing. 

Some how meeting this kind taxi driver restores some faith in humanity and in myself. I remembering him telling me after asking if I would go away to study “doh worry, the opportunity will come” And I started thinking, I’ll live by those words and trust that I’ll be able to leave my small life behind and live in my big dreams. Until my mother tells my that my sister’s kids are leaving for France, I’m feeling lost and left behind, because I remember when I had all these dreams of going to these places. Of watching these movies and imagining what the air would feel like, what having a window over looking the city and with a view of the Eiffel tower would be like… I was envious…but I had to let me self remember my own words of wisdom. don’t give up. your time will come. your time will come. 

A Different World

I’m sitting here at my desk, which faces the window. It’s conveniently next to my bed so that if I get tired I’ll just stretch myself across and wrap myself into my pillows. The t.v hums in the background of my stuffed room and the rain has just decided to fall again. It’s not such a spectacular view from my window, but when it rains, it’s like i’m in a different world. A wet, cold one. I like it cold, I prefer the rain to the sun, like the night to the day. It centers me, makes me feel calm and rested, but with my bed so close to my table I only long for its embrace.

Something’s off with me lately. I find myself tired all the time, restless, sleepy, agitated and unfocused. My final exam is on Wednesday and I am having a terrible time trying to study. How does one study? What is this sorcery they speak of? I’m afraid, I tired and afraid of failing. I can’t fail this course. I can’t get a poor grade, yet I am unable to save myself in adequate time. But as the rain falls, for a moment there is peace, there is a calmness in my center that I was previously unable to reach. I take the time to write down my feelings because it helps. I will document my most difficult times so that when, somewhere in the future I’m happy and successful, I’ll look back at these words and appreciate my own struggle, because by then I hope, I’ll be so long passed all of this. I have have faith in that different world I’ll be queen of. I have faith.

To My Younger Self- 1

I look at you now and I hardly see the girl that you were in the mirror right now. Where has she gone? What would she think of the face in the mirror today? I wonder as I decided to post your photo on my Instagram. I remember how buoyant I was, how you used to be talkative and proud and colorful. You were obsessed with being a tomboy in your little way. You were always smiling. That I recognize, that I know is still here, our weird awkward smile. You could never smile easy, but when you managed it was affectionate, funny and warm. I miss that little girl you were and still are, somewhere in the past as it echoes on.

I look at your photograph and I reminisce on the way you were before you became self aware and decided to hide. When did you first realize you were alone? When did your smile turn into the blank grim face I have sometimes. When did being alone become the easiest thing? Weren’t you always alone? It’s just that now as a grown-up-to-be you constantly have to think about the people around you. At school you have to work in groups. To grow up in the world you have to have an opinion, you have to share and be able to relate to others. You have to be like everyone else, while trying to be like yourself. You’ll meet people who’ll show you the world and greaten to take it from you. People who will love you, people who will not like you, people whose opinion of you will affect how you relate to them and others.

You’ll become someone stuck, trying to figure things out, constantly comparing yourself to other people’s progress. many times you’ll find the answers, but your mind will work itself against you, so you’ll become tired and sleep instead of staying awake and pushing through. You’ll get through all your struggles, but some will leave you scarred. You’ll meet people with endless words of wisdom and endless advice and for a while you won’t be able to hear them…until one day you’ll meet someone who would take a different approach, who’ll sit you down and write out a plan with you. He decides to be practical when everything else remains theoretically.

You fall many times and annoy yourself. You’ll question your faith and even wonder if you have any at all. You’ll be forced to look inwards many times and ask the toughest questions to yourself that you won’t be sure to know how answer. You’ll be confused for most of four years of you life and still barely able to make out any semblance of what you want or what you want to be. Your progress won’t be like everybody else, because you’re special. Not in a bad way, not in a narcissistic way either. You’re a slow grower, but you will grow. At 23 you’ll feel depressed because you always felt as if your life would be far advanced by now, but you’re still figuring things out. You’re shy, you hate public speaking and you rather hide than have to face people. But soon, you’re working on a plan to get things going. Don’t count yourself out just yet. You will rise to the occasion. Funny thing is, you always do, you get things done, people will be able to depend on you. You will suffer to get the task completed. You won’t be praised most of the tine, but this will be the least of your concern. You are more critical of yourself than anybody else, this is both a good and a bad thing. But guess what, you will be able to see clearly. All the clouds you’ll wake up to, will one day fade into blue skies and a beautiful day.


Kiss you? I dare not let the moment slip away when I can kiss you.

These  lips so beautifully curved to receive my mouth.

These lips that purse ready to reeducate your tongue.

You. I look at you and I can see the joyful pleasure creeping up

From your thighs, between your thighs and up to the curls of your hair

As they fall helpless over your forehead.

And droop to your eyes…tired and heavy with the rolling tide

of the sweetest little orgasms.

How gleeful I am when I feel your body tense beneath mine.

How delicious the sounds of your pleasure and agony escape your lips

Barely and just a little in your throat.

So delicious. So patient I become…

When my tongue travels over the sweet saltiness of your chocolate skin.

I want you more and more, I’m hungry.

This place is threatening to make me a short tempered woman.

I want it all. Your skin, your breathe, your arms around my naked waist.

The gentle shivers your body makes as I once again

Do that thing you like with my tongue against the nape of your neck.

Oh I love when your excitement causes you to dig deeper into my skin

Like you wanted to wrap yourself in it and make yours.

I am yours but time seems to be a jealous outside woman

Taking you quickly from me and me from you.

This bench and the cold night air are enough yet not so much

As we explore the warmth of each other.

Youth and public embraces.

Kind feelings and words whispered through the night

tempt us….but it is never enough.

I say to you dear, my delicious pet.

My lover, my sweet boy.

The next time we have hours in the day to waste.

Let us not waste time and benches