Home Alone, Part Who Freakin' Knows

"Nikki" by The Dream

...now your heart is broken / go on 'head and pick it up...

So Will texted me. I was nice and patient even though I just wanted to say all kinds of nasty insults that I rehearsed when the ship sunk but never got a chance to say. We stopped talking (I'm still not totally sure how he has my new number because I didn't give it to him!). But he decides to randomly contact me. It was obvious that he was intoxicated or altered in some fashion, otherwise he wouldn't have had the nerve, as he admitted himself. So I couldn't be that mad. He wasn't totally in control of himself.

However, I cannot understand why he would think I want to have contact with him. He said that when he checked on me on my birthday this year, I said I forgave him. I was probably altered. I was in Miami and you know what happened in Miami! I want to forgive him and in those moments in which the details of my life and pain are fuzzy, I can forgive anyone, at least for a while.

And honestly, I know that as a child of God I should have forgiven him by now. There are a litany of people who I should have forgiven by now but I find it wholly impossible. I'm weak for pain. I feel it so deeply, it's so paralyzing, I cannot figure out how to let it go. And it is not as though I haven't done wrong to others.

But I still hate him. I still do. I have stopped wishing for bad things for him. I only did that for a very short while. But given the continued decrepit condition of my life, as much as I want to "let go of the past", I don't know how.

And I don't know that I want to. These experiences are the kinds of things that teach me how to be less naive and less trusting, which is what gets me in so much trouble. I should know better but when I love someone, I trust them. I didn't think it would be a problem if he knew my master password. Stupid.

I just believe people will be just as good to me as I am to them or try to be to them. In the end, it wasn't even what he had done but more what he said. I know he was angry. But as time has passed, I wonder why that is the emotion he had. You don't know what I'm talking about but if I had a friend in the shape that I was in, anger would have been my least likely expressed emotion.

When I was "loco", Gwenny and Christina were willing to put our friendship on the line to ensure my health and safety. They knew it was possible that I would not want to be their friend anymore after they brought my situation to light, but it was worth it to save my life.

For that reason, I have always been confused by his reaction. I have remained furious about it. When all was said and done, the ego I fear in every man spoke up for him instead of the caring, loving person I knew, a person who seemed to really love me unconditionally.

The situation between Will and I has dulled the light I used to see in people. I am afraid now, most of the time, around new people. And I don't want to introduce new people into my life. It seems more trouble than it is worth.

There is a solid circle of people who have never swayed, never left, never really disappointed. I have resolved that they are all I need.

I still love people. I am still outgoing. But I am guarded. Sometimes I am sad because I wonder about the interesting and good people I am missing out on. Will was interesting and good to me, at least for a while. I miss (sometimes) the thrill of new personalities but it spares me of much pain. The trade-off is fair.

So, That's Awesome

"God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys

...I may not always love you / But long as there are stars above you...

Sniki texted me early this afternoon. She is a blogger and a blog reader (I feel as though that sounds so culturally contrived).

She texted me about two blogs that she thought were interesting and told me to check them out. Her blog is also quite amazing. She is on my Magic Woman blog as The Niki.

Because I decided to skip my only Friday class, my mind was in no way occupied, not being intellectual, and not being productive.

I was checking out these blogs and then I became a little idle. Some folder in my brain reminded me about a certain someone's blog, and, like an idiot, I decided to check it out.

Now, I didn't know the address so I looked up on Google the email address I remember he uses.

And I found it. And in it, he very measuredly, very casually, callously but effectively, and hurtfully called me crazy. The entry was not even about me and nor was my name explicitly mentioned but context exposed "the last girl I called myself in love with" as me.

I spent hours, hours thumb talking to my counselors Christina and Brittany trying to figure out 1) why he would say such a thing and 2) why I am so upset about it.

Here I am: A few months ago, I received a text asking how I was doing. I did not respond and received another message a few minutes later, a reminder from him that he will always be there for me.

I was enraged. I was so livid. After having "thrown a grenade and running," he was back, I guess, to assess the damage. I cannot convince myself that he was returning to rebuild a damn thing, although I could be wrong. Still enraged, I called him and let my angry lips talk without having thought about what I was going to say. It was profane and mean and emotional and raw, but it was honest. I still don't even know how he managed to get this new number.

What happened? What happened to "I am always here for you"? How quickly we arrive at "crazy" (and he knows I am afraid that people will think I am crazy so that's an awesome choice of a word). After the whole "betrayal" (oh it was such a production), I felt (feel) so slighted that I don't think he deserves to be angry.

But that is not fair. Those are his emotions. I cannot think for him nor can I feel for him. And if there is one thing I believe, I believe that we are all entitled to our emotions. He is angry and I cannot do anything but understand.

And I am trying. I am trying so hard to forgive. I try so hard sometimes it seems like he may feel it. He may feel that I am trying to let go and stop hating him. Obviously, he does not. I am trying to let it go, realize that people do bad things and will do bad things to me, I do and will do bad things to people, and move on with my life.

But it is hard. I understand that he his angry and I have a good idea about what and why. I am a student of psychology and I have already concocted some explanations about it, but it does not help me. It does not comfort me.

I let him in...all the way. I told him all the things that embarrass me, that I am ashamed of, angry at myself for, everything. And he caudled me and informed me that nothing is wrong with me, that I am still lovable, that I am a good person and then he left. And I wonder if he meant any of it. And then I returned to the days when I was certain. I am certain that something is wrong with me. He did not want me either.

I'm not angry. For one, I should not have been on his blog. For two, he is a human being and he deserves his anger and any other emotion he has. For three, he is a good man, a very good man who's ego was slighted. Empathy is almost always wholly silenced by ego. He is a good man, but he is a man.

The Christina and the Brittany responded to me all day with texts of encouragement. They said some unflattering things about my former friend (they may hate him more than I do, and it is not as though I haven't said some things myself), mostly just to make me feel better.

And even though I want to believe them and be angry because it feels so good, so filling, it is not right. I feel for him in the midst of my anger because whether or not I am wrong or he is, both of us are still humans and your pain is always real and never soothed by pointing fingers and dodging responsibility.

I am sorry. I apologize. I hurt you and I am sorry. And I shall never be so stupid as to read the blog again.

It's like I eat stupid for breakfast or something.

Lumières Lourdes

We have again re-entered the 30th Century as of January 26, 2009. He called me as I was making my nutritious dinner and watching the news.

I returned upstairs to view a missed called from...30th Century Man. I smiled like one who has had her sold soul restored by a sheepish, bitter devil.

I called him back and spoke to his voicemail (even though I hate when people leave me voicemails). He called me right back and we talked. He sounded a little disappointed that I did not call him during his whole vacation but I had lost the number. I thought about him often though (although I dare not tell him that). I think he forgave me.

I cannot even really remember the conversation but I was happy to hear his voice on the other line and know that I could call him whenever I felt.

I am not going to outline any plans or expectations or anticipations here. Writing my heart's literature is akin to publishing the future and if the future does not happen like the literature has recorded...I will be highly disappointed.

So I shonuff will keep this manuscript under lock and key, only read in the dark, basement office of my giddy girlhood, and only once in a while. But, this is me admitting that I have high hopes and expectations. I am simply not listing them. Things make too much sense when written and documented. I will keep them hazy and undefined for right now.

As a teaser though, I am hoping he is indomitable competition for Mr. Jones.

Shaken, not stirred and Taken, not single.

The Remedial Arts

"Break My Little Heart" by Jazmine Sullivan

...boy don't lead...lead me on / you don't know how I feel / please promise me...

I know this girl, beautiful girl. Funny, smart and wise far beyond her years. Loyal and honest, generous and considerate. Wide-eyed and ready. Dreams big and feels big.

If humans could even be perfect, she would almost be there.

But this girl doesn't know any of this about herself. She isn't humble. She is insecure.

And we're all insecure. However, her insecurities outweigh her knowledge of her grandiosity almost completely. She sees very little of what the rest of the world loves about her.

It sabotages her in so many ways, like insecurities typically do. She is paranoid about how she is perceived, anxious about who she is, and hyperbolic in the examination of her flaws. She sees very little of what the rest of the world loves about her.

She thinks his actions are whispers about her. His steps are sonar rebukes against the person she is. He isn't just unresponsive to a text, but he is ignoring her soul altogether, as if he is out to break her heart just by living his life. She doesn't see his attentiveness, his sensitivity to her feelings, and his willingness to talk and explain. She sees very little of the what the rest of the world loves about her.

Although my efforts in combating my own insecurities have been quite remedial, I have assumed the task of teaching her how to rebuild herself, love herself.

So I stopped by the computer lab in the library before my 2 o'clock class and typed up a syllabus for her. I described the course in self discovery she would be taking, listed the textbooks, and gave her a rudimentary outline of the assignments in personal growth she would have to complete.

And while I have her do all this, I, the professor, too will read. And we will repair ourselves together.

We will perfect the original projection of the image of perfection the world can already see.

30th Century Man

"Move" by MIMS

...homey, I'm the president, governor, and mayor / I control everything like a dictator...

I went on a date yesterday evening and it went very well. Believe it or not, it was only the second real date I have had in my life. I have been out with gentlemen before, of course, but typically with gentlemen I am already somehow entangled with. The date did not begin the "courtship" (because if I told you what was really going on in these other entanglements, you'd realize I'm sort of a fool).

I met the gentleman on whom I went on this date at a club performance. It was the American debut of a Sierra Leonean artist (Vida, who did not do well) and fellow Sierra Leoneans and other Africans came to support her.

He asked me out and we went to dinner yesterday. It was a cute, casual thing. He picked me up and met my brother Richard. We couldn't decide what to do for a few minutes. We had not really discussed the night's activities but we just wanted to meet up. So we ended up going to Applebee's (because I couldn't figure out where Chili's was).

We had very good conversation. He asked me a lot about myself and I sure did talk a lot about myself. I told him that I am (pseudo)self absorbed and he laughed at me. Next date though, I am going to make sure he talks more.

He was very chivalric, opening all the doors but not annoying. Chivraly gets strangely annoying. It is difficult to explain, but some will know what I mean. He was casually considerate and not overwhelmingly chivalric.

And my favorite: he is out of that t-shirt and jeans phase. He wore jeans, a simply decorated white button up and a light tan sweater overtop topped off with an adorable, plaid Kangol hat. It was very much of a grown man swag. I don't mind the jeans, the t-shirt, the kicks get-up, but that has to stop at some point, or it at least can't be his exclusive wardrobe. It becomes extremely problematic for me when he is still sporting such a wardrobe after the age of 30 (which is typically my dating demographic).

His other qualifications: he is liberal. He is educated. He is African (not from Sierra Leone but...that could be overlooked). He is handsome. He is not too "touchie-feelie", which is plus 50 points because I am not very affectionate at all. I have my times, but they are not often. I'll show my love other ways. (Strangely though, I am quite affectionate with friends and family, but almost wholly anti-affectionate with menfolk). He has the basics as well: his own car and residence. I would drool over the car, but I don't want folks calling me a gold digger (He has a beautiful, beautiful, clean, magnificent, orgasmic, awesome black Range Rover, of what year I am not sure, but am enamored none the less. It is my dream car which is why I am so excited and not so much because it indicates that he has money, although it kind of does because it is quite an expensive car to maintain. It's just awesome that I get to ride in a Range Rover, good Lord).

It was a simple, nice, normal evening. I don't have many such experiences with menfolk and it was so refreshing. It was exciting. It was cute.

I type all that to say this: I like him.