Got damn it.
He managed to strike again. This time applying more salt and alcohol to already bleeding open wounds. I allowed it to happen… again.
I gave him the power to kick me down and feel worthless. I allowed it. I called my mom in a fit of rage and she tried to rationalize with me. It was refreshing having her in my corner. I yearned for the support and faith of someone else. She gave me all of that. Thank you, mommy, for being there when needed.
But, I am still pissed. I’m pissed that I date someone who thinks they are better than me because they lack an education, but have a decent job. I’m pissed I allow people to criticize my everyday movement due to their lack of comprehension. I’m pissed because I knew the kick was coming, and I still allowed it to happen. I’m pissed because I have yet to give up on this fucked up mindset that my partner has.
Even I am starting to disappoint myself. Which is leading to my infuriation. So, what do I do?
I blog and watch movies about angry black women. Waiting to Exhale’s Bernadette motivate me to want to set everything that Reu’s worked so hard for on fire. Soul Food’s Terri makes me want to go to the kitchen and pick a knife. Preferably, the sharpest. Then, you have Eva from Deliver Us From Eva who makes me just want to keep bossing up.
So, I’ll reiterate it again. I was something before you and I will continue to be something if you leave today. So, keep sleeping on me because that’s all that is taking place. I’ll keep flourishing in the shadow, and when the light hits the joke will be on you. So, fuck off. Peace, love, and a Dose of Daisy.