If you don’t know how to deal with emotion, other people’s feelings can hit you like a drug.
— Jael McHenry
#GUEST POST | The author of this piece prefers anonymity and so it shall remain.
Well, I did this thing and fell for a fling. I swear it was just meant to be ‘not a thing’ but silly me, kept love ringing on the other line while clinging on my fling. She was just supposed to be a crush, and if need be make a quick dash but silly me fell for her smile, wide eyes and twisted heart with a loud crash.
I did this other thing and let my rage and hate swell from within. I could feel it to my brim and I kid you not, it was not meant to be controlling. My anger has turned into some sort of a monster. Like metastatic cancer that is malignant; shifting from one individual to the next. It is sporadic. Sometimes, I sit in the dark and feel it. I close my eyes and the emptiness behind my eye lids invites me over…and keeps me there. With the eyes outside my body, I look at my chest heaving. Breathing. Pushing. At first its fast, short breathes and scary. Then the calm makes a grand entrance and I feel myself subside. Quiet.
I am not the type of girl who was always down for anything but these days, am up for it. So I took the wheel and now am driving at 120mph. I feel like life, my life, is becoming vaguely disturbing and empty. Life gives you people to hopelessly love and care for, then puts you on the front row seat as you watch them slip right through your fingers like water. Am having people walk in and out of my life that I’ve had to have that street closed. Permanently. Am counting the people that I can totally count on with the fingers on my right hand.
My best friend found his thing and now he has a thing with this chic from down south and am completely stoked that dude got his shit going on but now I gatta bounce ‘cuz I don’t have an ounce of energy left in me to deal with their drama now. Apparently she sees me now as a threat and my hommie of over five years decides that I should maybe straighten it out with his girl. Shit man!! Grow some stones for yourself. You set yourself on fire and when it starts to hurt is when you remember me? Fuck off!!
So apparently am cussing a lot and now am fine with it. What do I got to lose? My grammar pedantry syndrome?
I feel like I should pull out a string of those to maybe, get it out of my system? I swear, it’s not my thing.
Also stumbled upon another thing; whereby my family, the entire lot, is going to burn in hell. We are a bunch of polka faced psychos. I swear, this took me by surprise and I cussed at how long I’ve looked the other side and played the dutiful daughter. That shit about blood being thicker than water is a lot of horse shit!! (See! Told you am cussing so much but I promise I’ll get it over with quickly.) So, we been putting up this front of a good, Christian family but underneath all that church charade? Is a bunch of self- seeking, conniving, selfish, lying, untrustworthy, hypocritical, two-timing people. Harboring so much filth beneath our Bibles, finger nails and long skirts to the ankles leaving nothing to imagination. Yeap! That’s us! Am so not going to be a good mum because I sometimes find myself hating on my three year old nephew and making him pay for his dad’s enormous mound of mistakes and wrongs. I know, am sick in the head but I already told you, we all stepping on that gas pedal to damnation. Am sitting across my uncle and hoping he chokes on his potato. Am staring at my grandma and tears well up my dry eyes.
The heart has to be the most fertile ground for it can grow both love and hate in equal measure. So I feel incredibly disgusted and hurt by a third of my family members and with the same heart and mind I love and adore the other third. The remaining third? I don’t even acknowledge their existence.
So lately I have turned to a sad little thing. The other day I had this thought crossing my mind and it stopped. Stark, right in the middle of traffic and now I cannot get rid of it. See, I was seeing myself get a small heart attack, not so serious but enough to knock me down. My left arm starts paining up, the hypochondriac in me starts reviewing all she’s read and heard about heart attacks, how to resuscitate a person before it’s a beat too late. For some reason, I never get to see that part. Not once. Other times, it’s a gunshot to the chest. Through and through. My person says am suffering from white people’s diseases. Apparently going mental is a race thing too. Who knew? Maybe am an Oreo…black don’t crack on the outside and creamy white on the inside.
During the day, I make myself really small and pretty and sweet…more acceptable to society. I become less adventurous, I become ‘not always angry’, I become perfect according to their pre-determined standards of living. Then I wait for night with a yearning so strong that my heart aches. Only then do I get to live and experience the world how I want to. With indescribable rage, unbearable sadness and an intense passion.
Am a sad little thing, walking around with my hands deep in my pocket but my head held up high and smiling at strange people. Am smiling a lot and am afraid am saying goodbye. Am I the only one?