Broken...

I hate that the reoccuring theme of this seems to be heartache and pain, but my life is what is. I find that no matter where I turn pain seems to follow me. I thought I'd finally gotten a grasp on things, but lo and behold here it comes.

Well, I was heading off to the library, because I mentor and tutor a group of high school boys in conjunction with my organization. I get a text fom that person that makes me smile no matter what. The text read, "When you get a minute I need to talk." I immediate hit him back, and was like "I'm headed to a meeting, but I'll get at you afterwards. But are you alright?" "Yeah, I just need to talk."

Now in all honesty we are just friends, but here's some more honesty I've always felt like at some point we would be together just not now for various reasons. So, I get to the library and to my surprise there were like 8 other tutors there. Now it's usually only me, but with 8 tutors and 10 students I was able to get mine started and step away to make the call. I was rushing because his text troubled me.

When I call him expecting to hear something either traumatic or just weird, here's what I heard "I've been talking to this chick for about month..." At that moment I heard I felt all of my emotions trying to exit my body at one time. I felt my legs weaken beneath me. My heart slowed down to an unnatural pace and my eyes began to burn, but I maintained my outward composure. Only God knows how.

I listened very carefully and I advised him truthfully. I did not once express any ill will and I told him how to fix it. If you've ever been in this predicament then you know how hard this was for me. But I've learned that when you love someone all you want is for them to be happy even if its not with you.

And apparently I'm not that one. I have not eaten or slept since it happened. I have found myself in more physical pain than I care to discuss, but you get the point. I don't understand why, how come, or whatever question I can ask. I have always been there for him through everything. I think this was the last straw. I'm officially broken...I'm done.

How I Met My Husband

I am 5’6, milk chocolate brown, with piercing hazel eyes
I have a slim waist, perky Ds, and nice thick thighs.
An ass as thick as Jiffy cornbread
Succulent lips then confirm that I, in fact, give head
I keep well manicured hands and pedicured toes, no doubt
Perfect for scratching his back and putting them in his mouth
I am always at the spa for a maintenance waxing
Keeping the purring kitty prim and proper for a tongue lashing
As if it weren’t obvious I am full fledged freak
I am down to do it whenever or wherever the spirit moves me.
I’ve given and received head in a glass elevator in the mall
And neither of us stopped even when security was called.
I’ve been bent over a clearance rack in Neiman’s
Eaten out on the counter of a cleaners.
Anally probed in the dressing room at Guess,
Rode a dick at BeBe’s wearing an unpaid for dress.
Before you lay judgment on the sexual activities in my life
I’m just being a loving, dutiful wife
Now, before you call me a liar
Let me tell you how I met my husband almost 3 years prior.
We were at a young professionals luncheon
He sat next to me and we embarked on an interesting conversation
The chemistry was immediate as his words turned me on
And I knew of an escapade it wouldn’t be too long
We individually made our way to a bathroom in the host hotel
However, it was inside where we got to know each other so well.
Our eyes met as we exited our respective restroom doors
It was obvious that we want to see each other more personally than before
We both looked over our shoulders and saw no one was there
So we both entered the ladies room without another care
With one leg on his shoulder and the other on the stall wall
He admired then ate my pussy up without letting one drop fall.
After impressing me with his skill at pussy suction
He pulled out his weapon of mass destruction
It was approximately ten inches of pure caramel perfection
I was amid admiring it when he slid in his thick, hard erection.
I moaned so loud I startled myself
It was good to him too, so he let out a mid toned “yes”
He stroked in and out of my dripping wet walls
And we were so in the groove we started shaking the stalls.
Being who I am I could not just let him run this
So as soon as I got my footing I started grinding my hips
He stood there momentarily motionless as worked my pussy mid air
He then held me into him and started pulling my hair.
“Fuck me!” I moaned realizing he was about to explode
But I unselfishly dropped down and swallowed every drop of his creamy load.
However, I kept sucking him until he was hard again
Then he sat down and I straddled and started riding him.
He pulled my wrap dress open exposing my pink satin bra
Then my pulled my breasts out and started tonguing them raw.
He fingered my clit as I came on his dick continuously
My sexy moaning was arousing him, so pulled out and resumed eating me.
He swallowed my juices and let only a few drops trickle down the side
Then he bent me over slowly slid every inch of him inside.
I twerked my ass and squeezed my pussy walls around his manhood
Had both of us moaning because it felt so good.
His stamina was amazing as we were sexing like crazy
Not for one moment was his stroke, hand or mouth lazy.
He spread my ass cheeks to intensify my orgasm
Not only did I cum, but it gave my pussy uncontrollable spasms
When he finally came he exploded on back
And watched as his cum drizzled down my crack.
Realizing the time we both washed off real quick
And tried to make it back to luncheon, but realized it was missed.
We exchanged numbers not really expecting to do this again.
He walked me to my car and made sure I was safely in
Then he and I parted ways and I figured this was the last of him I’d see
But when I got home the ghost of desire for him was haunting me
I grabbed one of my toys and made my way to shower
And must have masterbated in there for nearly an hour.
But none of it came close to pleasure I felt
I realized I could never get that feeling by myself
I shrugged it off and accepted defeat
And tried to relax by going to sleep
But I couldn’t stop thinking about how he made me moan
Then I somehow ended up grabbing for the phone
To my surprise before I dialed he was already on the line
It wasn’t long before I spoke these words of mine.
“I can’t stop thinking of you, and it’s a quarter to four.”
He said, “Me either, so come open your door.”

A Sneak Peek into my world...

I am probably one of the most complicated people you will ever meet. I am closed off, quiet, reserved, outta control, strange, shy, wild, deviant, hell there's not enough time or paper to fully explain.

I'm not beautiful or perfectly sized, but I usually do pretty well when it comes to meeting guys. The catch is that I meet the ones who are always trying to convert me or change me into what they feel I should be, but I'm not that girl. I have always been different. I think different, I act different, I stand out cerebrally, but I blend in; in person, that's me.

My teachers always used to and some still do tell me that my thought process is nothing like anyone else's. At first that embarrassed me, but later I began to embrace it.

I don't view the common like anyone else. I have a tendency to make the simple complicated, but the complicated is child's play in my world. I'm always looking for more, my appetite is insatiable. I have never truly been happy except being a mother. That is my greatest joy, but it wasn't until a recent string of bad events that I realized how much that meant/means to me.

I have a hard time being completely honest with people because I am unhappy with my current status. Even more so, I fear being judged. I am the first to step up and say that I have been through and seen more stuff in my life than many would believe. But where the problem comes is when I have to discuss what those things in are. I don't want to be judged by anyone else, because I judge myself constantly and trust me I'm the worst.

Originally, I had intended this blog post to be my coming out party of sorts, but I changed by mind, hence the title "sneak peek". I'm insecure about what the future holds for me. I want to do so much, but right now I'm so stagnant. That is slowing killing me. None of the older women in my family have/had gray hair but I saw my first one on Saturday. Figures. I'm always stressed, crying, or depressed. Every time I laugh there's a million more tears in the background.

People tell me that I think and act like a man. I have to admit there's some truth in that, but I hurt like a woman; even though I try to hide it like a man. See the constant anomaly that is me?

I haven't spoken to or seen my mother, father, sister, or brother in over 2 years. They ripped my world apart and broke my heart and no matter how much I try, I don't know that I will ever truly forgive them. I'm a grown woman and I'm still running.

Being alone with my thoughts is pure torture. I crave to have someone who knows the real me and accepts me just as I am, but I fear that will never happen because I'm so ashamed of this person I've become. And sometimes I hurt good people trying to find my way, so I've stopped looking. I settle for what I have, when I need so much more, but I'm the obstacle standing in my own way.

I realized the other day, that I fall for guys whose lives are similar to mine... pure chaos!! Why? Because that's what my life is like so I can focus on making him better and I don't have to deal with my own shit. Also, that's who I feel most comfortable with because they can't/won't judge me because they're focused on getting their lives in order. Guys who have their business in order intimidate me because I feel I have nothing to bring to the table. And I am right, I'm not who I need to be, I'm not trying to bring anyone down, I want to be a compliment not an insult.

In Mary J's words "if you look through my eyes and see what I see..."

Questioning Love

Why do we fall in love with someone, but can never find the words to tell them?
Why does it seem like when the words appear our voice disappears?
Why do we obsess over whether or not they feel the same way?
Why do we feel like no one can ever love us because of the past that precedes us?
Is it because of the baggage that comes with us?
Or because of the scars that have yet to heal?
Why do we believe that love is a hallucination created by mankind to act as a social control?
Why do we feel like the more we look for love the less likely we are to find it?
Why does being loved by the wrong one satisfy us?
Is it because we don’t think there is a right one?
Do we fear being alone?
Is that why we settle for the one who loves us?
Because the one we love doesn’t love us back?
Is that fair to the one who loves us?
How about to us?
What about to the one who we will love and who will love us back?
Why should he/she be forced to live a life of partial fulfillment because we decided to settle?
Why are some of us destined to be alone?
Why does it always seem like Mr. - Ms Wrong are the ones who approach and bedazzle us while their counters are in the background waiting for us to see them?
Why do we beat ourselves up over the one who leaves us, but are never grateful for the one who finds us?
Is that fair?
Is such the circle of life…or love?
Why is falling in love so amazing?
But falling out of love so devastating?
Why do our gestures of love go unnoticed?
Why is it so hard to tell each other how we feel?
Why don’t we walk away when we know it’s not gonna work?
Why does goodbye have to equal failure?
Why doesn’t our soul mate come with sign?
Why do we accept sacrificing our hearts so our pride can remain intact?
Why do we let distance determine our fate?
Why do we feel our lives must be perfect before we commit?
Why must we taste every apple on the tree before deciding we prefer oranges?
Why do we dismiss the person who best suits us because we’re not ready?
Why aren’t we willing to work on ourselves while we grow with them?
Why no matter how matter how many questions I ask; no one will have the answers?

Turn the lights off on your way out...

Today started off like any other Sunday. I slept in, ate a little something, and headed to my sorority meeting. While driving I began to feel a little queasy, but that wasn't uncommon considering my mental circumstance. I had taken on the challenge of not thinking of him today. It was going quite well. I had only cried twice.

As I sat through the meeting, my stomach pain became more intense. So once the meeting was over, I drove myself home. I figured this either meant Mother Nature was coming early or my body was finally feeling the wrath of my broken heart. Just as a precaution, I prepared myself for the former, took 2 Advil, and laid down.

I curled up in a ball and quickly drifted off to sleep. I woke up approximately an hour later stunned, because my sweats were drenched in blood. I went to the bathroom and attempted to clean myself up, but the pain came back with a vengeance. I washed up as best I could, grabbed my purse, keys, and a trash bag for my car seat and drove myself to urgent care.

Thank God it was only around the corner. I staggered into the emergency room and just as I was about to collapse an orderly caught me and broke my fall.

I don't remember the specifics, but there were people talking, the room was moving, and my stomach was throbbing. I had no clue what was going on. I think I asked a nurse, but I don't think she answered me. All I remember is everything going dark and then silence.

I woke up sometime later in a hospital bed wearing one of their peek-a-boo gowns with an IV in my arm. I still felt nauseous, but I also felt extreme soreness, and I was groggy as hell. Just before I could hit the call button, a beautiful Hispanic nurse walked in. She saw me fidgeting and said, "Good you're awake, we were beginning to worry." I swallowed hard, but my mouth was dry so it took a moment to get the words out. "Worry?" I quizzed. "What is wrong with me?"

Looking flustered, the nurse hesitantly replied, "The doctor will be making his rounds soon, you can talk to him about that." She continued to check my vitals. Just as she finished documenting my blood pressure, I touched her hand and barely above a whisper I uttered, "Please."

My eyes must have communicated how desperate I was for answers because her expression softened and I could tell she was trying to choose her words wisely before answering, "The baby didn't make it." I didn't say a word, because they escaped me. "You had a miscarriage." she said trying to help me make sense of her previous statement.

After what seemed like a long pause I said, "That can't be possible. I had a cycle after the last time I had sex." I shook my head in disbelief. "Some women have a menstrual cycle their entire pregnancy. It's rare, but not impossible." she said softly while searching my face for understanding.

"Oh my God!" was all I could manage as I placed my hands over my mouth. Millions of thoughts, questions, and memories flooded my mind. But the reoccurring question was "Should I call him?" And that indeed was a conundrum. He and I hadn't spoken in so long, I didn't want him to feel like this was a ploy to get him back. More importantly, I didn't want him hanging around because he felt sorry for me either.

Nevertheless, I was alone, and I wanted him there; more out of friendship than anything else. I desperately needed a friend right now, and he was the ideal candidate, because this was his loss too. Our loss.

Even though neither of us was ready for a child, we had created one. My imagination began to run wild. I envisioned a beautiful caramel complexioned little girl with sandy brown hair and a smile that would light up a room. Or a hazel eyed little boy who was the spitting image of his father.

Realizing this would never be, hurt more than I would have thought possible. I should have been relieved, but I wasn't. And I cried silently. What is so wrong with me that even a child who shared half of my DNA didn't want me either?

I hadn't noticed, but the nurse had reappeared, or maybe she had never left. I couldn't be sure, but she walked over and handed me 2 pills. "The white one is for the physical pain, and the light blue one is for the emotional...stress." she finished, again choosing each word carefully. I took both without saying anything. "Are you alright?" she asked as if she already knew the answer.

"When can I go home?" I asked dryly. "In a few hours." she said cheerfully. "We want to monitor you a bit more." she concluded. I rolled over and faced away from her.

"Ma'am is there anyone we can call?" she asked the loaded question genuinely.

"No!" I snapped unintentionally. "Ok. Anything else?" she said lightly, obviously not taking offense to my previous answer. "Turn off the lights on your way out." my voice quivered.

Darkness

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

Late Night Email Alert

I came home from the club slightly inebriated. I stumbled over every chord or wire in my apartment as I made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself.

(Ever since this break up (for lack of a better word), I have developed a slight drinking problem. Before you judge me, try to understand my pain. I am irrevocably in love with a man who does not love me back. At least not the way I love him, and if he does and I use the word if cautiously; he has never told me nor do I see it in his actions. I have been hurt many times, and I thought this was different. Wrong. He played me. Imagine that for a moment, and see if you fancy a drink or two from time to time. Back to today's events)

I washed my hands and stumbled back to the living room, humming "Break Up" by Mario. (oh the irony) As I reach the sofa, I kick off my heels, pull my dress over my head and throw myself on the waiting couch cushions. I grabbed my sorority blanket and curled up on the couch. I turned on the television, but I don't remember what was on because I was not really paying attention.

I must have nodded off because when my Blackberry rang with its familiar email alert I was startled. Since my BlackBerry is synced with my personal email, I knew that whomever was emailing me was someone I was either related to or knew me personally. With that in mind, I did not hesitate to check it.

Now imagine my surprise when I read his name in the from box. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and I froze. I didn't know whether to shit or shine my shoes. Should I delete it? I didn't know, but if I did I would wonder about it for all the days of my life. Funny but the subject line read "please don't delete." I chuckled a little, because he knew me too well. Then I sighed loudly at the thought.

My eyes kept scrolling back and forth looking at the name and subject line for what seemed like hours, but I know it was not. Finally I got the courage to check it, and it read:

My love,
I know I shouldn't be writing this, but in lieu of the text message I got from you last night, I knew I had to respond. Your words troubled me all day, but the answers you seek I cannot give you. All I can say is that I need space. I am not ready to be who you deserve me to be. I have much growing to do. I will always care for you, more than you know.

You are now and always will be "the perfect verse over a tight beat."

He'd always ended every text, email, card, or letter that way ever since we had seen the movie. He knew it was my favorite line.

Reading that email re-opened the wound, and lined it with salt.

P.S. When I woke up in the morning and attempted to re-read it, it was gone.

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl

A Drunken Text

My new pillow-top mattress had become the most uncomfortable place on earth. My bed seemed crowded even though I was the only one in it.

Search as I may, there was no comfort zone to be found. Then I began sweating profusely. It was hotter than summertime in hell in that room; yet I was longing for his arm around my waist or his chest under my face. I missed him. The tears began to well up in my eyes again, or were my eyeballs sweating?

I checked the temperature and the meter read a cool 65 degrees. How could that be; when I was obviously burning up? I shrugged it off and quickly set the automatic dial to 60 and continued to navigate my way through the darkness to the refrigerator. I poured myself a glass of Bacardi...ok maybe it was 3 or 4 glasses, but no matter.

I maneuvered my way through the darkness and sat on the couch. I grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. I don't know what I was expecting see on the television, but I know what I got; teenage love stories and soft core porn. All those did was cause the tears to fall more, but I saw no point in fighting it so I let them flow. I picked up what had to be my 5th or 6th glass of Bacardi and drank it way too fast. Even the stray tears falling into the glass did not deter me, and within a matter of minutes the glass and the bottle were both empty, just like my spirit.

I looked again at the screen and saw the couple making love and it dawned on me, it had been nearly 2 months since I'd felt the touch of man or the pleasure of an orgasm. "Fuck him" I screamed at the television. No matter what channel I turned to there was some form of love or coital bliss being displayed. Even on telemundo there was a confession of love going on that even I, being the non-Spanish speaker that I am, could understand them clearly. From their lover's exchange to the first moment their lips touched, it was obvious there would be no sanctuary on the television screen for me. The eye waterfall began to flow like the Niagara and I let them. Finally, I hit the power button.

For a few moments I just sat there sniffling in complete darkness. Looking for some type of distraction, I focused my attention on a nearly full pantry. "I could eat myself into a coma." I thought. But considering all the working out I'd been doing that would not have been wise. Besides, the next time we meet, I want him to see what he's missing. At that thought a slight smile crept up on my lips. My head started to spin as the Bacardi was just now kicking in, in full force I might add.

I looked to my right and saw my Blackberry. I quickly grabbed it to check for any missed calls or texts...nothing. I went to my saved texts and read some of the sweet messages he'd sent me, which now seemed so long ago. My mouth was dry, my stomach was tight, I felt like I might vomit. But once I regained control of my senses, I hit the reply button and typed a text that read:

You fucking bastard, why did you do this to me? You begged me to trust you, promised you wouldn't hurt me, and here I sit broken, in mind, body, and spirit. I let my guard down and let you in and you hurt me. What did I do to deserve this? I gave you more than I've ever given anyone in a very long time and you used me. How could you? I would have done anything and everything for you don't you realize that? What did you want that I was not giving? What did you need, that I neglected? Why take from me if you knew you never intended to give back? Why bother with formalities, I would have fucked you anyway had you just been honest about what it was? I'm grown.
Why did you pretend to care for me, to want me, to want me to want you then take it all away from me? I told you what I'd been through, I shared my pains with you, but you inflicted a new pain of your own. I've cried a million rivers over you and I will probably cry a million more. I loved you, yes I loved you. So tell me what happened, you owe me at least that much.

Send

Just then a flash of rational thought hit me. I was sure I was going to regret this in the morning. "What have you just done?" I whispered. But before I could fully think it through, sleep overwhelmed me and I passed out on the couch.

The Diary of a Brokenhearted Girl