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F*ck the New Year...
I have the same feelings of worry and fear as I did the year before.
To expect the same f*cking disappointments from humanity... nothing more.
Tis the season of broken promises and false hopes.
Yet another reason to put yourself, so to speak, up against the proverbial ropes... in this ring of life.
To be honest, I don't ever see myself, being a wife.
I don't have the heart to do it to myself... the endless soul-crushing heartache and pain masked as love, like the kind I saw you and dad stealth.
I don't think this shit is worth it... life... or wife. Let alone something I'd willingly pursue... like peace of mind, or wealth.
They aren't what I thought it's been.
Rather, they are... But I was hoping not.
Can't you see?
I can't just Jiminy Cricket, or wish upon a star to some Blue Goddamn Fairy, or rub a lamp like Aladdin or Jafar,
This is my LIFE.
Not that movie you fell asleep through that time, with Martin Lawrence and Eddie Murphy.
Oh no wait, that was Wayne's World, but whatever, right?
I mean... right now, this poem, listen.
These are my words, mom... no matter how solemn,
I figure this is my final attempt to put the writing on the wall, hoping someone might, see, hear, or speak them.
Or not hear them at all.
I can't play like I'm fine...
I know the family, you, my friends, or whatever, think otherwise... that I just like to pine.
I know I have deep issues, no pill will be able to 'Abilify.'
I have the memory of the spirits of Christmas past gone by... only this ain't Dickens.
I'm not Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit, and my dear Scrooge... no matter what I've said, to you, in anger, you did the very best for me... I mean it, you stayed unlike, everyone else, and hacked it.
You Saved Me.
I'll never forget it.
That night, in question... you took me out of that dark place... tears streaming down my face.
I told you,
"I just want to die..."
you suggested we just,
"go for a drive to someplace."
So... you put me in the car. We talked and laughed... getting home eventually, and watching Big Bang Theory and Driving Miss Daisy until 10 in the morning.
In the same ways you stir my anger, you... still, lifted me out of my sadness, even for just that night. You, kept me wanting to fight another day, despite my plight.
Even when I didn't deserve a chance you gave me one...
Remember? You searched for me when I was 15 and disappeared till 4 AM.
Not one phone call in sight... had you searching the streets and Keisha Ellis's house, at wee hours of the night.
I wish I could turn the pages back to... "Teet like Dis."
And Nickelodeon at Night.
Watching Rhoda or Taxi at auntie Pansy's, eating Entenmann's cake, until all hours of the night.
I wish I could go back to St. Elizabeth pier, get lost again because I never listen. Only to turn around and not see you, hiding with the others, giggling in the bushes, because I had to learn a valuable lesson...
It's surprising how relevant that day is now...
and the queasy boat rides you took Me and 'Dicky' on, with crazy uncle P... it's funny because now, he loathes me.
But you... even though you're terrified of water and get seasick on waves... still braved what you feared, to put a smile on my face.
Why did no one else in my life... ever do the same?
Why did they, instead, just CAUSE ME PAIN.
Only used and abused... and thrown away.
Instead of face what they feared for the ones they 'say' they "love."
All lies just the same.
"There are three things in life, you never chase, a phone, a bus and man."
Heed those words, soldier, about face... (yes ma'am)
Guess it's hard to love a broken girl... love me anyways despite the fact my mood changes like the seasons, and my words maim.
I never spit fire without matches or gas... Not calling any names.
And I'm naturally, a water sign, to put out the flames.
Not Daddy, not M*tch not Ky, not Paddy, not Dicky, not Carinosa, not family, not friends. NOT ONE FUCKING PERSON kept their promise to show me unconditionally, that they'd love me till the end.
Maybe that's the way it was meant to be.
Maybe it's them... and not me.
Or, maybe it's just another new page in the book of, "Same Old Me,"as I skim through the pages trying to catch the key points with a Hi-lighter.
Still trying to take note of whom I'm supposed to be... a failure or a fighter.
F*ck... for real. I'm actually asking. Can you tell me?
Because even after all these New Years...
It's still just a mystery to me...
and my memory's failed me.