funnel

Understatement 1: break ups suck.

I’ve lived through a grand total of two significant ones in my life, and one involved an escape that greatly aided the healing process [although a line up of aunties swore that as he was white with blue eyes, Dude would HAVE to find his way back into my life. Blame the fact that Jesus, the first white man with blue eyes, stuck by us through all our sins for that lapse of logic].

A former acquaintance, who oddly enough exited my life due to her compulsive state of monogamy [which, in the case of women, leads to the inability to be a friend] once said [and trust me she would know]

It takes about a third the length of your relationship to get over a guy.

If I do the math, that means that 18 (rounded up) / 3 = 6.

You can' trust a person who turns rebounds into long-term relationships, so I defintiely canNOT trust that calculation.

It may be the advent of summer and the return of sunrays, but I have been conserving energy. I forgot I produced this much - perhaps because what I had previously been exuding had been funneled directly into a black hole, never to be seen again.

I am still weary at the idea of putting ideas out there, defending them now more than ever, having any sign of difference or individuality bashed into thr ground, to be stepped on, pointed and laughed at for the past... what was it? right. 18 months.

So I won't talk about having my pictures published on a travel website, or the fact that I feel loved by what you so elegantly call a nigger - without any racial undertones, your upbringing made you allowed to call black men that right?

I won't tell you that I dance and think up beautiful thoughts again, although I have trouble focussing them without hearing your critical voice, or your contemptuous eyes.

But that will pass.

I am feeling again, and for the first time in a very long time what I am feelign when I let myself do so is not pain. I became numb with you, because the alternative hurt too much.

It wasn't enough to make me yours, you had to kill what you owned too.

people like myself ... your people, your kind.. who are they? you spoke of them with such disdain, and yet you once liked what I embodied... projecting your hate of yourself upon me because of your inability to be like me - by extension what you wanted to be.

You made fun of my creativity, my joy, my ability to imagine and invent. My soul. My essence. But you have none, either, and left us both standing empty.

I am contacted by people who knew me but now liek you I cannot respect who they speak of or take her seriously so who am I - until you can tell me you had an ounce of respect for this girl you said you loved i cannot be her

I do not believe what I just wrote. Your opinion means so little though you speak with such authority. You speak from the throat, not from the soul or any place of truth. So i'll truck on, happily without you.

Thank you for teaching me by example what hate, disrespect of self, confusion and lies really are. I will never forget your lesson.