Me with...

shit on my mind.












Right now, I've got Jill Scott in my ears. I'm channeling her hard.

Singing and
thinking.

Writing.

I've got a whole lot of shit on my mind.

Grad school. Decided to push it back just one semester.

Was that shit smart?

I mean...in the grand scheme of things
it could only be better to wait right?
Wait until my test scores are better.
Until I feel more confident.
Until I really become the artist I say I am.
Right?

Yeah, I think so.

I thought I was in love again. Finally.

Key word: thought.

Or maybe I knew, and that's where the fear set in.

I knew all too well the feelings of anticipation and longing that he set into motion. I'm familiar with how it feels to be infatuated and to know it full well, but to love and raise it until it's become some full on crazy shit.

Conversely, I knew with the same wonderful familiarity the way it hurts when my infatuation is not his love. My infatuation is mine, and his like is his. Each doesn't know of the other's existence. Ultimately, the like goes away and the infatuation is revealed for what it is: smoke and what? Mirrors.

With the knowledge of the rapture that I caught myself in came the heaviest feeling of dread. Because my head, who thinks much more rationally than my heart, would not let me go. She only let me swim if I would wear the life preserver and the big orange vest full of foam padding to keep me afloat.

Thank God for her, and the life preservers.

For experience, wisdom, hurt, pain, aches, laughter, perception, love, infatuation, crushes, lies and truths and the shades of both.

I didn't feel like writing poetry tonight. I felt like writing prose.

Is that prose?

Yeah, I think so.





And all this happened in the span of...5 days.