dancing with the devil

I was about that life. I did it for 3 years — one of the many reasons why I believe in God. The devil was the destructive relationship I was foolishly too stubborn to end with my high school boyfriend. No need for all the personal details. I can solemnly swear that girl who was too ignorant to call it quits is not the same girl who sits in front of this computer. That girl is somewhere working retail, living on the eastside of Atlanta with 3 kids (all barely 1 year apart in age) and a baby daddy whose current life aspirations are simply to have sex several times a day, own several pairs of versace shades, hook up with strippers from instagram, and have enough spare cash to buy a quarter ounce of weed everyday. That was my future. Once upon a time ago, I was begging God for that life sentence. That’s how I was living life — like I was worthless. I was literally snatched up from that fate. I was saved. I remember just waking up one day and starting over. I did a total 180 but I did it in a way that no one could even fathom my past life. My past life is my best kept secret. Not that I’m hiding it, but my metamorphosis has happened in a way that my reckless past isn’t that apparent. It wasn’t until today that it truly sunk in how stupidly I was playing with fire.

I’ve been known to say that I don’t have regrets. True. I believe that experience is the wisest teacher. Hmmm… I was about to say that I regret the 3 years that I lost fooling around with that guy. I won’t say that though. I’ve witnessed a darkness that hopefully will be unknown to my cousins, siblings, and my future children. I guess I can be somebody else’s “Jesus”.

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