Can't Stay, Won't Go

Here I am. I am proud to be here. I am proud to say that every day I have chosen to get up and at least put pants on and maybe a bra (bras are terrible creation by the patriarchy I am sure). I also am aware that there are some people who didn’t have the strength to keep fighting this internal battle. I remember you. You are not a coward. I know there are a lot of us who need help fighting this battle and you are seen and not weak. I am also speaking to myself. I am not weak for not being able to get up some days.

Transitioning to Peace... (and quiet)

In all honesty, you think that would bring some sense of freedom. (Yay no deadlines! Endless naps!) But when you have only been conditioned to operate within the construct of one due date to the next the uncertainty of the nothingness is extremely anxiety inducing. You are constantly feeling that you are forgetting something. Every day I personally feel like I have forgotten to do some assignment, my brain literally cannot compute.

Young Love, No Chris Brown...

Anyway, here I was going through something that was major to me and the adults around me didn’t understand or they did understand and they just made me feel extremely stupid. I think sometimes adults act like they are so far removed from being young that they forgot their first heartbreak or hell they forgot their first kiss or first love or first time. And that doesn’t really do anyone any good.

Ode to the Black Womxn

I could list all of the figures from history, but I won’t because I want to shout out those of us who are currently making history. Who sacrifice our mental health knowing we shouldn’t to complete our goals. When we our hurdles are 30 feet taller than the others who are in the race with us.

We come Home to Ourselves

When you come home to yourself but you do not know yourself, you feel like a stranger in your own house. The last time you knew who were was in the womb so you lie in the fetal position hoping to recreate that certainty. And when I say you I mean me, but it really feels like a you because I don’t know me. I am trying to find my identity in a space that constantly tears me apart in an effort to put me back together. So here I am, on the floor crying tears that I cannot figure out the meaning of. I ignore the school work piling up. Anxiety turns into depression and depression turns into weight on the bones.