At times, I get overly anxious and I start thinking about… everything! Things that only add to my anxiety and it’s on repeat. At times, I get overly anxious, and I start thinking. “Maybe I could’ve said…”. “Maybe I should’ve said…”. I be thinking. “Why didn’t you?”, “you probably wanted to…” whyyyyyyyy are you being weird to me?! We’re not supposed to be weird. At least not in an uncomfortable way. Why are we weird now? At times, I get overly anxious and I start thinking… this could be a good time to cry because, I don’t have the answers I want. This might be a good time because, I have no idea what’s going on and I hate it. I have all this time, and all of these thoughts, and no answers to all of these questions I’m asking myself, but they’re not for me, they’re for you, and we’re being weird… I get so anxious and I wanna be cool and collected, but I’m all over the place. Tell me something. Anything. Give me something to think about because the things I’m thinking about are… maybe this is a good time to cry. I don’t have the answers and I want them, but I can’t be demanding of you, but I also have standards for myself, and I don’t think how I’m being treated is ok, but I don’t want you to pull away because… I want to be close, but things are weird, and I want to know why. At times I get overly anxious. Right now, anxiety has a good grip on me.
The changes
Hot and cold. Hot and cold. Back and forth. Back and forth. Most days I can’t tell if I’m coming or going. If I’m staying or leaving. I shouldn’t have showed up if we’re being honest about it. I shouldn’t have came back if I’m being honest with myself. You only value what you can use. I’m useful… sometimes. Every love I come across tries to break me. I’m a builder, a fixer… I try. A lot. Everyone I come across tries to break me. Each in their own way. Each for their own reason. They see things in me that they like and they don’t want anyone else to like it. They chip away at me until they change me. Then they criticize the chipped pieces to break me. I was beautiful. I felt… beautiful before you… Now? Now I’m arguing about my beauty and questioning if you’re right or if you genuinely got me messed up… I’m a mess… but I know myself, I was never messy. Things go left when I’m right and this is where you left me… questioning myself. Do I even bother to speak on it? Because… I’m useful… sometimes. And you love me… when I’m useful. And I love the feeling when you love me because I deserve to be loved… but the uncertainty of when you’ll stop haunts me. It follows me because, everyone I come across tries to break me.
How do I express that I’m depressed without the weight that’s tied to the word? Depression… All the stigma attached. Deep sadness. All the questions with that. Is it suicide? It could be, it feels close, but it’s not because: life is worth living, but life sucks sometimes and the easiest answer is to stop breathing, but… this ain’t that. Sometimes I get lost in my thoughts. Exploring different timelines with so many possibilities and so many options… so many choices. Meanwhile, I’m stuck to this reality where I can barely realize my full potential without being blocked by something. Not too many options. To not exist comes off as a good idea, but… it’s not. Reality sucks sometimes. The lows are unbearable and the highs are dopamine dreams and I love it… and I hate it… and I love her… and I hate myself… because I can’t come to terms with how someone can just stop loving me… How could she stop loving me… How love could stop loving me… I wasn’t done loving. I have more to give, but the stoppage makes me feel… inadequate… invalid… inside I’m dying, but outside, I smile because it’s easier than crying… and I’m sad… and I’m happy… and I’m regretful… and I’m thankful… and I’m sad again because feelings are weird and I don’t understand any of it, but I smile because I’m a man and nobody understands any of this. I’m ok with not being okay, but I am not okay.
I’m tired of texting.
Sick of the “what are you into?”s
And varying points of views…
Truth is, I could never love you.
My heart and mind is elsewhere.
I could never love you
I’ve been loved incorrectly for so long, I can’t feel it.
Whatever chemistry you’re looking for.
Whatever connection you may need.
I can’t provide it. I don’t understand it.
I’m still struggling with the questions
What’s the point of a good heart in a bad world?
Why do I waste good times with bad girls?
What qualifies as good?
Have I been good enough?
I got nothing for you.
I don’t even feel like I have something for me.
I’m just…. Exhausted.
As I look back at the last of our moments, it’s kind of hard to not remember everything. As much as I may not want to accept it, it’s burned into the walls of our story. All of the memories, burned into the corners of our existence. All of the ash. Everything burned from existence. The remnants tell the scrambled stories of what was. Places that serve as markers for lives that once were. Our lives. My life with you. Gone are the days when these halls contained the sound of life and laughter. Shadows burned into the walls. I can’t forget the moments. I still see you in certain places. Smiles seared into these picture frames. Everything burns.
“The revolution won’t be televised. We’re living in a world that will gouge out your eyes. I ask the Lord to protect my soul. For the things I’ve seen make my heart go cold” ✊🏾
Lost In Blackness
It amazes me
In a time when we should be together we
Find things to nitpick…
I’m in shock
At a moment when we should…
At a juncture when we should
Focus on
Those who are focused on
Killing us
We’re
Focused on
Being part of the problem
“If black lives matter”
The question of the racist…
“If black lives matter”
The question of the misguided negro…
“If black lives-“
Shhhhh
Negros somehow thinking
Their blackness exists on a different plane
Kudos to you for being a good citizen
But those who wish to remove our hue from view
Don’t care about our contributions to society
All they need is a reason
From career crook to top ranking policemen
The skin we’re in is enough for them
You may not realize, but we’re in the same boat
You’re rowing backwards.
