Her Metaphors...Salt

Have you ever had a cut and out of sheer curiosity; or sheer stupidity you decided to sprinkle a little salt on it? Well, being the precocious child I was. I did. I had heard my grandparents mention "pouring salt on open wounds". At that time I was unable to grasp the context in which they were using it so I thought I was gonna heal myself by pouring a packet of salt on an freshly opened cut I had received from falling on shards of broken glass.

BIG MISTAKE!!!

I had to be 13 at least. Trying to prove how "smart" I was. I poured packets of salt onto a saucer and firmly placed my hand where the gash was onto the seemingly harmless pile of salt. I figured it was probably gonna sting, I mean all meds do; but nothing and I mean nothing could have prepared me for the pain I felt. I started running around screaming and yelling. I was holding my hand out crying, no one was able to make sense of what I was saying or what had happened.

But I swear my grandma was omnicient, because by the time I made it to where she was, she immediately looked down at my hand. Ran me all the way to the bathroom and begin to rinse my hand off. The cool water didn't help at first but eventually it began to soothe the pain some. Blood kept gushing out (I'm a free bleeder). And it hurt, but a whole lot less.

Once she had brought me down from hysterical to those low sobs she said, "Chile now what possessed you to put salt on an open wound?" I said, "well I was trying to heal it so you didn't have to take me to the doctor, cuz I don't like needles." I dropped my head and she paused for a second. Looking for the right words I assume, and said "Bel fam (pretty girl in creole), salt is a preserver not a healer. If you put salt on an open wound that means you want to keep the wound open. When I was a little girl we used to wrap meat in salt so it wouldn't spoil."

"But mommie, I heard you say put salt on an open wound." She laughed, "That's what you get for being in grown folks business. What I said was put salt on an open wound if you want to and you will never get better."

I turned red.

She began to bandage my cuts quietly. Then all of sudden she started to talk again. "oiseaux petit rouge (little red bird in creole), in life you must always remember never throw people's wrong doings in their face especially if they are trying to do or be better. Especially if you want to see them better. If you keep reminding a former thief about how much he has stolen from you, you may kill his growth. He feels no need to change because he knows you will never treat him or see him differently. While you may remember it, you should scarcely, if ever bring it up. What's the point in changing if it is never recognized? If you have someone in your life who seizes every opportunity to remind you of the old you then you need to cut them loose."

The funny thing is, all these years later I still remember that conversation. And over the course of my life, I've made a concious effort to always be mindful of what she told me. That's why I am so non judgmental of people and circumstances. I rarely, if ever, throw things in people's faces, because that's just not who I am. I believe there is good in all people and I look for it. I know I've done a lot of wrongs but everyday I try to be better. I can't lie it's hard especially when your past is constantly looming over you, but harder still when someone is launching your past in your face every other chance they get.

While I lean more towards forgive and forget not everyone feels the same, and that is alright too. What I can tell you with absolute certainity is every time you keep telling your man/woman about who they used to be (when they are trying) don't be surprised if the old them resurfaces leading to the death of your relationship. Salt in an open wound hurts like hell and it will never heal; the same applies to your relationships romantic and otherwise.

In actuality, how far removed are you from the "old" you?

*Salt does not heal wounds, it preserves them. So if you're constantly pouring salt into open wounds they will never heal. They will only worsen until death occurs.*

Best Friend

I grab the phone, checking my text messages
It’s you asking me about today’s stressful events
Telling me everything will work out for me
And even if it doesn’t right here is where you’ll be
I’ve called you crying and you verbally dry my tears
From 3000 miles away you manage to alleviate my fears

But I know nothing can come of this
You’re my best friend…I know what it is

Still every time my phone rings I subconsciously pray it’s you
Can’t lie, consciously I hope the same thing too
But you’re my friend and those are hard to find
Maybe us having slept together is why I’ve blurred the lines
Doesn’t matter now, what’s done is done right?
Guess that’s why my dreams defer to you every night.

I take sleeping pills to mask my dreams
But I awake restless, so in you I find rest it seems.

Fell in love with your flaws
So when you start trippin I never get pissed off
See you as perfect, knowing that you’re not
Every time I look at you temporarily my heart…stops.
Gotta catch my breath
But for a glimpse I’d risk death

Checking those feeling because you’re my best friend
I look in the mirror and tell myself to never feel this way again.

When you need something it’s on me you call
In my role as best friend, I hold you up every time you fall
Constantly, checking myself cause I’ve never fallen for a friend
Never ever have I felt this for anyone else, but then again you’re not them
Support your every decision even when I don’t agree
No matter where you look, you’ll find none better than me.

Why can’t you see in me, what I see in you?
Probably cause we’re best friends and that’s not what best friends do.

Even with the distance between us I know I’ve made you a better man
But that’s equally returned you’ve made me a better woman.
No matter what you say to me you always make my day bright
Whether you’re telling me I’m wrong or if I’m absolutely right.
You never sugar coat shit you tell me just how it is
But you always check your tone in regards to my feelings

When things go bad you’re the first one I want to call
When things go well, you’re the one I want to tell all
In order to shake this, I have to put some distance between us
Not in miles, but in mind so with myself this I discuss.
No communication with you makes all my days sour
I find myself checking my phone every hour on the hour

Days go by, maybe 2 or 3
I don’t say a word, but you hit up me
Seeing your name brings everything back
The color to my skin and the smile my face has lacked

Guilt encompasses me for needing you the way I do
For me, need is the equivalent of me being in love with you
Don’t understand why my feelings for my best friend are so strong
I’m in uncharted waters, yet this doesn’t feel wrong.

“Keep the friendship; lose the love” I keep telling myself
Yet no matter how much I plead, my heart wants no one else.
So one night drunken tongue speaks a sober mind and I confess
Only to find a mere reply of questions which revealed so much less
Immediately regret rushes over me like a cool breeze
But it’s too late to retract these things
Tears run down my face
Like a NASCAR race

Now I’ve lost my best friend because things will never be the same
I cringe at the mere mention of your name
Not out of disgust, but because of the loss
Wish I’d never let my heart take on the role as boss
I’d still have him even if it was just as a friend
Now, I’m stuck alone with just my thoughts who long for only him

No one will ever be able to take his place
Or fill his space
I just hope I never find myself in this position again
In love with, missing, and having lost my best friend.

The Difference A Day Makes

Yesterday I smiled when I heard your name
Today I cried
Yesterday I was infatuated with your game
Today I am hurt
Yesterday I saw so much potential in you
Today I see nothing
Yesterday there was nothing for you I wouldn't do
Today I am paralyzed
Yesterday I thought about you all day
Today I can't think
Yesterday I just wanted you around my way
Today I want you gone
Yesterday I couldn't wait for today so you could be my tomorrow
Today I'm wallowing in pity and drowning in sorrow.

You & I

You and I
I needed you; you weren't there
I reached for you; all I felt was air
I called your name til I nearly choked
I kept calling yet no one spoke

You say you didn't know; I should've made it clear
You say your hand was outstretched but maybe not so near
You say you didn't hear me; so I should have yelled
You say that had you heard me you would not have failed

I say, baby why didn't you see the signs
You say, how can I expect you to read my mind
I say, but I let you in the way you asked me to
You say, but I thought that was something you weren't willing to do
I say, I wanted to try and show you who I really was
You say, I always knew you, and I loved you just because
I say, then why did you leave me when I was at my lowest low
You say, I had to give you space and sunlight so you could grow
I say, where does this leave us? Is there a you and me?
You say, baby if you follow I will definitely lead.

The Accident

She embarks upon every day the same as she did the one before
No life lives behind her eyes
Each breath is strained
She is on life support.

The doctor enters her room with the same prognosis
“She has normal brain activity, but her motor skills aren’t reacting to the messages sent by her brain.”
It is that statement alone that keeps them from pulling the plug.

Each day her family and friends come and whisper words of encouragement
Some cry, some confess, some just simply sit there.
The nurse assures them that she is aware of their presence
And at some point, when the time is right she will respond.

Today makes 1 year since the accident,
However, she didn’t fall into a coma until months later.
“Unforeseen repercussions, a rarity but any slight reminder of such a trauma could trigger this reaction.”

Prior to this, she had been showing signs of regression,
But she had suffered so many internal injuries her discomfort was to be expected.
No one could have predicted this though,
On New Year’s Eve, they came home to find her lying on the floor.
She had suffered heart failure stemming from a heart murmur,
Doctors believe the murmur was caused by the internal injuries sustained from the initial accident.
A condition the doctors had missed during their “thorough” testing.

She was rushed into surgery,
It was considered a success
She awoke, seemed cognitive, and responsive
A little over a month later, following her birthday
Her health took a turn for the worse again.
However, being the fighter she is; she waged a war on her condition.

But by April, the continuous hospital visits had obviously taken their toll.
Still she was determined not to let her physical pain determine the course of her life.
She began to go out and about, and live each day larger than the one before.
It’s like she knew she was on borrowed time.

She would often call me and we’d talk for hours
We’d laugh, cry, and she would pour out her heart and soul.
I could tell that she had not totally made peace with her situation
No matter how much she tried to convince me that she had.

I’d often notice her staring off into space
Lost in what seemed like a blissful memory
(Probably prior to the accident)
But by the time she reached the end of her flashback
She would be grief stricken
Either on the brink of tears,
Or betrayed by the lone tear that refused to be suppressed.

I hurt for her.
I could only imagine the daily struggle of trying to live a normal life,
When you know your circumstances are anything but.

I prayed for her.
Everyday, some nights, and a few times in between.
But even when I thought I saw an improvement in her condition
I would later catch a glimpse of her,
And realize it was only a matter of time.

The end was drawing near.


It was late May when the call came.
Her heart had failed her…again.
And she was on life support.

I went to her bedside every day without fail.
I knew she felt my presence because talking to her felt like a conversation.
I’d say something and her response was understood, even though her lips never moved.
Sometimes I would spend the night
Other times just the day.

However, today more than ever I was drawn to her.
And sitting at her bedside, I realized I loved her.
I wanted to run out of the room to make sense of my feelings.
But I could not move
And it became clear.

I am her
You are my accident
And love is my disease.

The Need Addiction

Webster defines a need as: a condition requiring relief; anything that is necessary but lacking. He continues on to define an addiction as: being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something. (someone) In Roman times an “addiction” was a formal award by a magistrate of a thing or person to another person and their justification of slavery. At first glance the two may seem different, but if you look closely they are quite similar.

See the connection? Not yet? That’s ok I’ll pull it together in a minute. And let’s add in the ancient Roman’s definition.(For good measure of course.)

Needing someone makes them necessary; because we become abnormally dependent on them, in turn we are metaphorically awarded to that person as we cannot function without them.

Pathetic existence huh?

I’m not saying there is problem with needing help or needing advice. But I concur that the overall concept of need in turn causes problems or it least it can become one if not controlled. Moderation in all things is my motto, but what happens when moderation is not an option? What happens when you have allowed yourself to become dependent on someone so much you are no longer two but one? What if it happened without your carnal knowledge? Is this need addiction void when you become married? Is it a requirement of marriage?

Battling need addiction is such a dilemma, because controlling one’s emotions is a chore in and of itself, especially when a large part of your well being has merged with someone else. And if you could “control” it; it wouldn’t be an addiction now would it? So does that mean going to “rehab” to purge oneself of the source? And while it can be done, is the withdrawal process worth it? Because aren’t we going to go right back and create another addiction and/or need and have to repeat the cycle? It’s like going to rehab for cocaine; getting clean, then going out and smoking crack. Trading one for another is a cycle. Can it be broken?

In that case are we truly any different from any other addict who we tend to look down upon? Because if you think about it we go through very similar motions.

Is needing someone more acceptable when it is consensual and mutual? But what happens if one person’s needs overwhelm the other? Or what happens if one becomes “needy”? Submitting oneself to our emotional needs weakens us. Or does it empower us because we can rightfully identify what/who we need?

Personally, if ever I admit needing someone that’s a feat in itself. I may have just as well said “I l-l-love you”. (See how hard that is for me?) I mean, who wants to be an “addict”? Walking around tweaking and scratching; feening for the next hit.

People fail you, so should we be willing to take the risk? Or should we lean primarily on our own devices and learn to need ourselves? Only allowing people in; in extreme circumstances?

What say you?

*Please enlighten me*

The Plot Thickens 3.4

Sitting in that hospital while the doctor rambled on and on was the easy part, because I wasn't listening. I was in full out panic mode. I cut him off mid rant to say, "so you're telling me I'm gonna have a baby any day now?" He looked at what had to be a face filled with fear and confusion and said "yeah any day now."

I explained to him all the ways this was impossible and he explained to me all this ways this was not only possible but a reality.

I also informed him, that I had obviously not told my parents or anyone and I would like to do that in my own way and in my own time. He nodded, but went on to tell me how he needed to run tests on me. While he did so, I contemplated my next move. In my mind, it started to make since why frat boy kept calling me fat, it's because I was pregnant. Speaking of which I have to not only tell him I'm pregnant, but that this is NOT his child. (Which in many ways was a relief, because I did not want my legacy to be the woman who gave birth to the spawn of Satan.)

And the plot thickens...

When the nurse began to draw my blood she could tell I was absolutely frantic and disheveled. And I know she was staring at the scars and bruises, because she said barely above a whisper, "there's always adoption. My friend owns an adoption agency." I turned to her and asked "really?" She and I talked for quite some time and she even gave me the number.

The next day I called, made an appointment and instead of going to work I went there. The people were very friendly and it was black owned. They showed me profiles of interested families and even a family who would take a child with disabilities. (Which with my lifestyle and habits was sure to be an issue) I have to admit I was impressed. The mother gets $10000 to cover expenses endured during pregnancy. And since I obviously had none, this was a financial upturn. I had pretty much made up my mind, but I had one thing left to do and that was tell him.

So, I went home and surprisingly he was there alone watching a movie. He greeted me when I came in which shocked the hell out of me. I stood about 3 feet away from him and I said "we need to talk." He said, "before you go on, your little stunt not only embarrassed me, but the bruhs too. But I get your point, I'll keep my escapades outside of the house." I got so angry I just balled my fists up and started breathing heavily. Between gritted teeth I said, "no that's not what I want to talk about." He stopped the movie, and walked right up on me until he had me backed into a corner. "Bitch you are not leaving me, you're mine."

He wrapped his hand around my neck, and I realized I had a decision to make. I could let him choke me to death that way he would have to serve jail time or I could just tell him and see if he kills me in a new and exciting way. I've never been a fan of suffocation, so I opted to tell him. I said, "I'm pregnant!" He let go of me.

I couldn't tell if he was angry or not, but I decided to go all in, "and it's not yours." I winced, because I knew he was gonna do something. But he never stopped pacing. I was shocked. I asked him if he heard me and he said "yes" very calmly. I started to walk to the room to get my things and surprisingly he didn't stop me. I packed up everything, and ran out of there. I felt so relieved. But when I made it to where my car was parked at he was leaning against my car. I was like "oh shit this is gonna go so horribly."

I pretended he wasn't there and tried to unlock my car but he pushed me and somehow I was backed up against the car with him hovering over me. This is a conversation I will never forget.

Him: How far along are you?
Me: 37 weeks
Him: So it's for Chi-Town?
Me: yes
Him: have you told anyone?
Me: No

A very scary smile crept over his face

Him: Since you insist on embarrassing me you're going to make this right.
Me: How is this about you?
Him: Don't test me bitch. See, I love you, but I'm going to need something more to validate what you did the other night. I'm going to tell everyone you were pregnant and scared to tell me because you didn't want to ruin my career. And you're going to say as a side effect this baby is premature so in fact it is mine. You're going to name him after me and we're going to be a family.
Me: Are you fucking crazy? I'm out of here.
Him: You're not going anywhere but back upstairs. You can go willingly or I can assist you.

I walked up the stairs dazed. I could understand or believe what had just happened. How in the hell did I end up in this situation. Pregnant again and with this nigga? I've always been a good person, but I'm living in HELL.

He didn't let me out of his sight the rest of the night. I didn't sleep. I spent the entire night trying to process everything, but to no avail. I got up earlier than usual to get ready for work. He didn't want me to go to work so we argued for nearly an hour. He got a call from his "bruhs" so he gave in. I dropped his off at his LB's house and headed off to work. I was driving to work, but I drove right past the exit and 3 hours later I was in my grandmother's living room crying and explaining my dilemma.

She took me to her doctor and sure enough I was pregnant. They scheduled me another appointment for August 7th. (2 days) I spoke with the adoption agency and they were speaking with the potential family.

Consequently, on the day of my appointment, it was confirmed that I had some sort of rupture. (This is why I had a menstrual cycle throughout the duration of this pregnancy.) Dehydration and mild malnutrition were the primary cause of the non-existent bump. When they checked for the baby's heart beat there was a faint one and then none. As horrible as this sounds, I was somewhat relieved.

They gave me medication to induce labor, but they were preparing me for a still birth or momentary life. At 3:33 am on August 8th I gave birth to a 6lb 8oz baby boy. He did not cry, he barely made a sound. They took him immediately to run tests and what not. I hate to admit feeling relieved, but it's true.

Yet nothing could prepare me for what happened next.

The doctor came in and told me that "he" was perfectly healthy; which again baffled them...and me. My mother must've known what I was feeling because she immediately took the baby from the nurse because I had no intention on doing so. I refused to even look at him. I lay there in silence and cried myself to sleep.

I woke up the next morning thinking...hoping it was all a dream, but it most assuredly was not. And to my immediate surprise my aunt and uncle who lived in Missouri was there. It became clear to me that my mom and grandma had called in reinforcements...MAJOR ONES!

Before I could say a word my uncle said, "I will not tell you what to do. But I will ask you not to give the baby up for adoption. We would like to to take him, and raise him as our own. He's family."

I was confused, angry, hurt, and guilt ridden. Let me explain.
Confused because I really didn't know how I ended up in this situation or what was the right thing to do. Angry because I had confided in my grandmother about the adoption and I felt betrayed. Not to mention that this conception came from rape. Hurt because I felt like I had let everyone down. Guilt ridden because of all of the above and because I had 2 children and I wasn't even 21.

Words escaped me so I cried. Then frat boy showed up.