self control

i used to be such a hard lover — to hell and back; what would jesus do, self sacrificial kind of foolishness. the way i loved, i could’ve joined ISIS. i was extreme. i was selfless. i was so removed from my own pain that it was like i had no feelings of my own. i was consumed with moving mountains for another. i wonder what that hard love will translate to in the future. i wonder how my ability to love has transformed to continue to be unconditional, without the self-destruction.


I remember when I actually believed that our love was so radical and unique that we alone could shift tectonic plates and stop time. Our energy together was revolutionary and catastrophic. All we did was create natural disasters. It was a beautiful dark twisted fantasy. It was 2011. Now its 2016 and I’m living in Tokyo and I smile when the earth quakes. I’m still kind of fucked up. I’m still kind of dramatic. I still seek thrill and adventure. I still enjoy vulnerability. I’m just quicker on my feet with a thorough survival kit. 

I had a moment today.

I thought how surreal it is today.

I loved you so hard.

I considered marriage.

I considered childbirth.

I creased your trousers.

I made your meals.

I ached for us. 


He believed in threes. He would often say that it takes the third love to get it right. The first love is a reckless warmup. The second love is the hardest — almost perfect. Almost doesn’t count though. We were on seconds. I wonder if he sabotaged it out of superstition. He liked to be right. I thought we were unicorns. I thought we could prove to be invincible. He thought I was an alien. It was a bittersweet comparison. He was right about something. I do hope his intuition was right though. I hope he was right about the third. 


Too often, I’ve met these types. Sometimes I’ve loved them. I wanted to do so. They were allowed to be loved, of course. However, I’ve used all my allowances. I will no longer allow myself to drain my energy trying to make the world a better place by attempting to teach man-boys about spectrums. I am a retired instructor/therapist at the “International Fuckboi Rehabilitation Center”. 

So, to speak on “these types”, the fuckbois… The man-boys who like to portray themselves as enlightened and understanding. They like to portray themselves as the “Love Wins, BLM, Black Girl Magic, Pro Black, Woke…etc” intellectual, free spirit, artsy type. They are attracted to my boldness and shaved head. My mystery. They like to comment on my strength and how it’s so becoming. They like to tell me that I’m beautiful with such context that suggests that I needed affirmation from them, because oh of course, they make the rules & determine what’s beauty. I fucking know I have star power already. Then somehow, they will try to tear me down, when I challenge some absurd comment that slips from their lips. They have said “that’s just how men talk”. They will then be taken aback when I am not moved by their sweet nothings which reflect the instinctual arousal of their flesh. I am otherworldly, sir. Do better. I am not stimulated by your penial banter that you mask with predictable prose.

They will try to challenge my abstinence and my sensuality; as though the two can’t coexist. They have tried to manipulate me as a result of their own insecurities, because they wanted to control me with such cruel efflictim. I still can’t believe that they believe I love my breasts because they fantasize about them. No, you imbiscle. I love them because they are apart of me. It’s just that simple. 

They have tried to judge me because my complexities made them uncomfortable because it was not a part of their bullshit formula on how I should behave. I have disappointed many. I have offended many. I have only grown to love myself and the many undefinable ways I can be woman, black, and human.


I watched this piece & felt so loved — so understood. I truly want to forward this to everyone on the planet. Let’s translate this to every language. I would cc the fuckbois first. They need to see this urgently. Watch this overwhelmingly accurate piece, directed & written by Cecile Emeke, a woman of color using film to provoke & inspire ~

fake deep | cecile emeke