Who the Fuck Am I?

Who the fuck am I???

What the FUCK, am I supposed to be doing?!

INTERROBANG!!!!!

I like the weirdest shit.

I do the weirdest shit.

I say the weirdest shit.

I am the weirdest shit.

And, I’m not going to stop with the shit.

So what kind of shit.. is a person like me, meant for?

I’m supposed to grow up.

Get a career.

I was supposed to finish college.

Get a degree.

Stop goofing off.

Mature.

Take responsibility for my future.

I mean, I’m trying...

In a way..

I’m trying to take responsibility for my now.

In a way..

What’s a future without a now, anyway?..

I want a now that still stubbornly allows me to be free.

I can’t stand the thought of rushing out of a place I’m only renting, with a dumbass live laugh love coffee mug in my hand, full of hot tea probably, on my way to a 9-5 most likely, to barely get by for the rest of my life to show that yes- yes I am capable of being an adult and yes- yes I am adulting in accordance to this check list norm that society marks off as “the way you should be living”-yet check out this wicked run on sentence I just completed.

I’m trying to grab my life by the tits and milk it til I’m dead.

Right now, I ain’t milkin SHIT but thoughts that taste like chlorine because I can’t afford to buy my own place yet.

I want my dog to have a big ass yard to run and shit in.

I want a magical garden where I can roam around the labyrinth, talk to myself and my plants. Get lost in myself.

So, I’m still dropping ice cubes into my drink, one at a time, because I thoroughly enjoy listening to the way each one cracks differently. Every. Single. Time.

I like to see... how each crack runs differently through each cube despite them all feeling equally cold and looking fairly similar in shape.

Why do they crack so differently?

They each formed the same way, in a way, didn't they?

I see those ice cubes as you and I.

Eventually, they all melt..

Which one am I?

You are ready now.

Haha.

Are ready know.

I’m the one saying thank you ma’am but deep down wants to say thanks for the fucking sweet tea Sharon, but I can’t.

Because it’s seen as disrespectful, even though I KNOW- I’m being respectful.

I'm being respectful because I know I mean it.

Thanks for the fucking tea.

It was really nice of you to go out of your way to get me this fucking tea, but now I have to say thank you ma’am so you know I’m not being facetious.

And I don’t quite have the money yet to not give a fuck the I way I want.

Because people don’t know me well enough to distinguish the difference between a negative connotation when they hear it or if they’re just hearing me.

It’s always me.

So why am I explaining myself?

Because karma.

That’s why.

Once people know who I truly am.. what I stand for.. how I genuinely care that there are people without food or water in this world and once I have the money to help change the world even more than the little I can do today, I’m going to say. And do. Whatever. The. Fuck. I want.

Because I KNOW. Karma knows me.

But right now.. I just feel like karma doesn’t.

And people? People can affect your karma.

So me?

Right now, I’m the one drawing pictures with crayons and cutting out of magazines for creative collages that visually depict my writings for a couple of cents online while my two-year-old naps.

He doesn’t nap for that long anymore.

He’s happy with the box, not the present. That says a lot.

Can’t get a job as a professional writer because I didn’t finish school.

Need a degree. That says a lot.

FUCK YOU.

I’m going to make a blog.

I know how to write.

And if there’s a grammatical error in my writing, which there will be.

There will be MANY..

There’s an app for that.

Websites.

Shit I still won't use. At least not today.

Grammar, grammar, grammar.

Grandpar, grandpar, grandpar.

Sister, mother, dadder,

And guess what else?

I still dread going to the dentist.

I’m 25-years-old.

If there was an app to go to the dentist,

I’d use that too.

But I get it.

I get it, ok?

Not everything is the easy way.

I’m not saying I like the easy way better either.

I just prefer my way.

And guess what? Right now, my way is the hard way.

I want to live my life, the way I want and like.

That’s not how this goes, apparently.

But I don’t believe that.

What I do believe is that we have the ability to govern and manipulate the outcome of our own lives through free will.

I currently don’t have the ability to govern my own life, but I will.

I may struggle for a while, but I’ll figure it out.

I have an infinite world in front of me convincing me which ways I need to be going yet I’m still swimming upstream against all advice, trying to do things my own way, in hopes that I will make it to the nearest exit.

An exit I will have created on my own. An exit where I don't have to fight the current any longer.

Because that’s what my intuition, my heart and whatever else inside this physical body I didn’t ask for, has always told me to do.

So I’m listening.

Finally.

I ramble.

I'm a Pisces.

Let's not go there.

I get off topic.

I eat unhealthy majority of the time.

I’m a mother who is supposed to be leading by example.

I’m trying to be the example.

The example that the best you could ever be, is being YOU and not giving up on yourself even when it seems like the most reasonable thing to do.

I’m trying to be me.

A financially bullet proof me.

Get paid. To be me, me.

Me me me.

him, my dog, my family - me.

The most selfish, selfless version of me.

Oxymoronly.

I’m the happiest when I’m me.

I want to be happy forever.

But as for now-

Enjoy some of the art I made of Tyler the Creator.