The Birds Part 1

We have all been guilty.  Of liking someone more than that someone likes you.  Being a victim of your peers whom often tell you to follow your heart and press SEND on that text message, even though you are more than positive its’ mapquest is going to leave you in a dead end. Guilty of talking about someone 19 times for the every 2 times, at maximum, he will think about you throughout the day. Of blowing the relationship out of proportion. 

People often preach how others in this world will never find happiness. You can’t help to wonder if you’re one of them who won't. You chase your fate wondering what Zeus has in store for you. You wonder if you’re the cause of your own romantic demise, or whether love was never in the cards for you in the first place.  You chase rejection because perhaps you don’t know what it ‘s like to feel otherwise. Can’t help to wonder if you deserve this. You ask yourself if during the time that you urge for magic, you’re supposed to gain ambition while being busy doing something major like curing cancer or finding a poison for NYC subway rats.

I personally prefer to marinate in my sorrow while hoping to win the lotto.  Something I am changing about myself. I’m a working progress.

It’s NOT one of those situations where you were led on to believe to see fireworks at the end of the boardwalk. You were cognizant the whole time.

You have all these feelings except that you cannot communicate em to the person whom occupies your mental because the reality of the situation is that you two were never that serious.  You shared laughs, sex, shrimp & broccoli, breakfast at Denny’s, link up text messages and perhaps a couple of phone conversations, but it was just that.  And you knew it.  Despite your knowledge of limitations, somehow your conscience managed to explore the territory of #nah.

In your life time, you have previously dated scumbags, liars, the one who's submissive to his crazy ex, the "yes" man, the condescending older, well-educated man, the guy that tries too hard to be like the rest of his cool fraternity brothers because he's the lame one and thirsts over every exotic female who finds him ugly, and a couple of miscellaneous non-factors along the way. And then there is him. *emoji heart-eyed face*

Scary enough that some people in this world are just nice.  He might like you and maybe treat you really well, but that’s because he is just nice.  Nice smile, beautiful dark complexion, well-dressed, beady eyes, fresh haircuts, offers you his jacket when you’re cold, introduced you to his mother. But he's just nice.

You can’t demonize the person for being nice. Although you want to. Because then you just become of one of those people that believe/expect others to treat you like douches if they’re not interested in fucking you.  You begin to think the person is the worst person in the world because he did a lot for you to believe you were respected. Which he does. Respect you. Maybe. But just didn’t care enough to catch you fall. He wasn’t here for that.

Drunk in the club, high, singing off key “And I wiiiiiish I neeeeever met him at all.”

You wonder if things could’ve been done differently. If you should’ve wore sexier lingerie the times you became intimate.  Waking up an hour before he does to freshen up to fall back asleep so when he looks at you, he thinks you look like a princess.  Styling your hair differently every time you link up to see which look he prefers best.  You tear up in the car after your girls rushed you to get dressed to an event - where you know he will be- which consequently, caused you to rush on sloppy make-up and now you hate the way you look.  He’s going to think you’re just that ugly girl who wears bad make-up.  You gain interest in things that interest him. Watches the shows he watches. Eats what he eats. He’s so perfect, that you want to be perfect with him. You attempt to reinvent yourself to suit what he looks for in another. It’s a conscious effort, everyday. Even when he's not watching. 

A lot of people in this world were chosen to be handicapped, and by the glory of Zeus, you were not.  And, mercifully, will keep all of your body parts until your number is called.  You should be grateful.  In turn, only selected people get chosen to keep a healthy heart that can healthily love. And you just may not be one of them.

Unfortunately, life is very little about what you deserve, and very big on getting what you get.  Life doesn’t grant you the privilege of experiencing love because you’re good Samaritans, participate in breast cancer walks, offer your seat to pregnant ladies on the bus, give change to bums on the street, vote for Obama, or politely show interest to your friend's mother who talks too much.  This is my incruzitive theory. Despite my theory, I am still exploring how big of a role it is that karma plays into our fate.  Although I am a firm believer that karma is, in fact, present, I fear that because it has no expiration date, some of us will miss the glories of our own reward or consequence for our bad deeds, thus live life frivolously.  In turn, suffering bad blood for the negative actions we don’t know we are committing or the hearts we're unaware we' have broken broken in the past. That time when we curved that person we just didn’t think mattered.  Vicious cycle.

In writing this post, I think about the feeling that I get when reading others.  And while most of them make you tear up with the truth, they usually end in an optimistic tone with solutions on how you can tackle your problems and, perhaps, become a better person.  As hard as I am trying, and please trust that I’m trying with all my might, to reciprocate that feeling of empowerment, I have no answers.  The truth of the matters is is that I am looking for the answers myself. 

They say that when you recite a bad dream aloud, the bad dream will never occur in real life.  This is my attempt to reverse the fear of many fates.  Even though all I feel I have provided in this post are a couple of mascara tears and keyboard, my method of operation has always been to raise consciousness.  Just like a good college professor who provides the tools and expects you learn how to use them on their own.

You see, the nights where he kindly curved your calls or preferred you not come over that day doesn’t necessarily make him an asshole. We like to think that they are the most terrible people in the world because most of us feel entitled to consideration. The world makes more sense to us that way.  However, every human possesses something called self-interest and most times, those of different people’s conflict. Not everyone can please themselves and you at the same time.  Not everyone is gonna care enough to catch you fall.

Scariest thought is that many of us never had a basis to fall in love with a person in the first place. And therefore, suffer in silence.

Some great people are not meant to hold on to.  They’re meant to enjoy and then set free. 

So don’t you fall inlove, don’t make him make you fall inlove.  Don’t make him make you fall inlove with a nigga like him. Cus girl he’s just a bird.  Yes, he’s just another bird.  He [showed you] to never fall with a nigga like him. Nobody needs to fall inlove.

Let go and let God.

Despite it all, it felt really good to see him last night. 

Don't Hold Your Applause For Me

My name is Cruz. It is not my last name. Instead, it’s part of my first name. No hyphens, no spaces, no in-between capital letters. I am Black & Hispanic. I’m often only referred to as one or the other, rarely both. Black people think I am the most “Spanish” thing since maracas, while Hispanics wonder WTF am I doing smoking their hookah (I don’t smoke hookah). Fuck them both. I am an Athenian goddess, and nevertheless, a cuntworth queen.

I am new to the blogging world. I’ve spent most of my life speaking my sermons that it has never occurred to me to record any of it in writing. And then I thought of one of my favorite philosophers, Socrates, and how he never recorded any of his works. Instead, Plato wrote them because he admired Socrates. But the btch that killed Selena admired her once too, so I find it best to record my own work. That, and I’m scared to die. I enjoy writing in lowercase letters, so this is the only time you will probably read my words case-appropriate.

The initiation of this blog is a product of my inspiration of my fellow “The Chatroom” bookclubees Tassika (virginfingertips.blogspot.com) & Sioban (randomepiphanys.blogspot.com), two lovely ladies that I’ve known from a distance for quite sometime and am getting to know more & more by each post. I’ve always had it on my TDL list to blog, but I didn’t always have the motivation that I received from Tass & Sio, so this is a new chapter of my life, just as I know they are continuously writing theirs. I want to thank them for welcoming me (well idk if I’m welcomed, cus I aint even tell these btchs – SURPRISE! *cheeses*) into the world of keyboards & hope they enjoy my work as much as I enjoy theirs.

Until next time.

Oh yeah. And welcome to my house. Feet off the couch.

Ocho <3