pack light. ohhh, oh!

Imagine taking a stroll down the street and seeing a beautiful Porsche for sale. All black everything, this car is stunning and breath-taking. The price is really reasonable… in fact, it’s practically a steal! You look inside the window to see that the car has 200,000+ miles on it. You, as the buyer, will probably do one of two things:

1.     You will decide that the car is not worth the trouble and leave it alone.

2.     You will buy the car (for little to nothing) and decide to use it while you can- expecting to toss it when it breaks down on you in the middle of the 205 freeway.

This could be similar to you- “breaking down” in the middle of Whole Foods on your significant other- making a huge scene because he/she said something that reminded you of a triflin’ ex lover. When you are traveling down the road of life, you acquire mileage. That is a given. Recently, I had conversations with people who are emotionally scarred- and it makes sense. People have a harder time seeing what real, healthy love looks like. Their parents barely say two words to one another. Their past relationships have literally shape shifted from gold to dog shxt. Basketball wives, football wives, baseball wives, housewives of Atlanta … and I cannot find one, legitimate wife on television. A lot of my friends are graduating from college believing that love is something that died in the 90s with the VHS and ducktail braids.

            So you “don’t believe in love”? cool. However, there is a problem: human beings are dependent on intimacy and innately search for someone to love them. Whether it is at the age of 19 or 60, eventually, we will level with ourselves and admit that we want someone to genuinely care-in a romantic sense- about who we are. A lot of my guy friends say, “I’m never getting married” or “Imma be a fifty year old bachelor”. Cute. The bible talks about roads commonly traveled being fruitless in its destination. However, the winding, narrow road always pays off in the end. Loving is hard and tedious. It calls for vulnerability, trust, and seeing yourself in its rawest form; But the reward is priceless. At my graduation dinner, my grandmother was in tears .. dying laughing because my grandfather was…well, being my grandfather. “Edgar!” she said panting, “You make me laugh, boy, you make me laugh.” It’s been fifty-two years and I swear, their love has sustained one another. That, my friends, is priceless. 

“you said you’re learning to trust men again. But this is love, made unselfish. Made for you to feel empowered, at the same time helpless.” – Common.

fight back .

"live through this, and you won't look back" - stars .

motivate yourself . life can make you its personal punching bag . it wraps its fingers around your neck and presses in the center . it presses and presses until you're so close to suffocation . it feels like you won't make it through the day . the idea of tomorrow makes you sick because you can't see a light ahead . it seems like, the more you invest in, the bigger the risk in the end . sometimes you can feel like you're crawling through life instead of soaring like you should . you know those times when something weighs heavy on your mind . . . so heavy that it almost seems to be a REAL weight ?

it's imperative that i tell you . PUSH forward . you can be going through one of the toughest times of your life , but maybe the point is for you to overcome it . maybe the point is for you to be able to say, "i got through it." The hardest times in my life have given me the greatest sense of accomplishment and wisdom . It can do the same for you . The most interesting people are only that because of their perspectives and experiences . If life was a mere walk in the park, that would be the only story we had to tell to the world . a damn walk . The most interesting people fought life back because of their strength . Ghandi has a story to tell . Mandela has a story to tell . 2pac had a story to tell . Lauryn Hill has a story . Kanye has a story to tell . Make your story . I'm not saying to look for trials , but don't stop living because they might arrive .

The question is not whether you'll pick yourself up from life's abuse . The question is "what will you be able to tell your grand kids about your triumph over life's adversity?"

bravery

"we're all scared .
if youre not scared, youre not paying attention. "

people die .

people are living with cancer , wondering if they will see their kids' graduation .
wondering if they'll ever fall in love .

people are fighting for our country , waving to their brothers on web cams ... asking themselves if this is the last time .

someone is in the hospital watching their baby turn blue ...stomach churning with anguish .

someone is sleeping with a knife under the pillow, holding on to the hope that their dad doesnt beat their mom tonight .

someone has all the odds against them, praying not to feel a lump in their breasts . crying at the thought of chemotherapy treatments ...

someone will walk out of the house and die in a car crash, someone will lose their memory, someone will have to move away, things have to c h a n g e .

but to be scared of love ...
"that is weak ."

tell someone you love them because tomorrow is never promised .

dancing ribbons .

sometimes when i stare at my tattoo , i wonder what i truly did to myself .
but then it hits me .

everytime my pupils gaze over my wrist, my mind is rushed to the hospital room .
my mind is rushed to radiation treatment rooms .
my mind is rushed to memories & thoughts .
my mind is rushed to that wednesday of 06 . the septembers of all septembers .

my mother always told me, "dont lose who you are" .
for years, i tried to remain exactly the same . but as my prom came and went . my boyfriend came and went . my brother got taller . my realities got bigger . as the seasons changed . . . so did i . change is inevitable . but my tattoo is permanent . my soul is permanent . the fundamentals are instilled . 'who i am' is planted & can never be lost .

my wrists are the same things that are raised with my fists .
my wrists, the skin that is inked with the constant reminder of embracing each day .
as i write my papers, im reminded .
when i get dressed, im reminded .
when i raise my hand in class, im reminded .

but more importantly, when i live ... people are enlightened . moving through my everyday, one more person gets to know that breast cancer is real . that early detection is real. that courage is real . if you pick nothing up from me, take my wrists as a parting gift .

. f*cked up color .

she woke up. what a bad dream, this one . the same dream as the other two-hundred, but it felt so real this time. She felt around the bed. It was there, she just knew it. She could smell the pink in the air, it had to of been there. She shook it off, felt the pink fall off of her nightgown. She hopped in the shower. The sprinkler head pushed out the steaming hot water onto her canvas. She hoped to wash off the dream. She hoped the water would cleanse her of the fright. For she knew where the center of fright stood… In between delicate feminist color & painful death. She moved her hand around her breast, but all she felt was silk. Tears rolled down her silk and into the collection of others acquired before. She knew what was coming. She sat on her bed and waited until finally she passed out. The ribbons came this time. Wrapping around her brain until her circulation was depleted. “About time,” she thought.