i’m not being extra. 

had a beautiful cry 

like i had a blade dragged into me to remove a dormant cancer that was hidden & resting but in great magnitude. 

before this cry, i had a productive day.

i laughed and smiled.

i worked on new projects. 

i saw people who i admire.

i had endorphins flowing through my body.

i had a cry @6A after a bike ride home during a call home to my grandmother. 

it was like blockage was removed and resting pain that existed inside me exited in bulk, in the same vain of my living joy. 

i could see myself screaming as babies do when they become aware of the vast world – life replanting me from my comfort zone to one more visibly boundless.

my grandma laughed and said i’m perfect. 

may / 

Cooler than a cucumber / Flipped the pillow though / But there’s no need / Hands shaking when you touch there / You keep going / Windows run with water drops / Eyes are the windows to the soul / It’s a sun shower / Might not have noticed / On the other side of those 4 limbs / Haven’t seen you for some time / Was only warming up.
///
He said I smelled like earth / He asked where I was from / He felt Atlanta or Harlem. 

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.

circa 2004

These days, life is like the summer between jr high and high school. I don’t know it all but I’ve seen some things. I’ve grown apart from people. I’ve seen things come to an end. I’ve seen sadness. Creating precious moments that are like deep secrets is a hobby. I’ve built comraderies through shared experiences. Most things inspire me. I am very expressive. I dance often. I kiss my friends. I hold their hands. I want them to feel special. Life is not sexualized. Life is pure. My male friends are my brothers. My female friends are my sisters. I’ve seen happiness. I’ve gotten into trouble. I know life is about choices. I’ve taken some risks. I’ve seen my peers do foolish things for the attention and approval of others. I enjoy inside jokes. I’ve seen the ying and yang in my elders — some bitter, some better. My heart is warm. I like to write notes, lay on my bed naked & listen to music, & give flowers to strangers. I don’t take things too seriously, although I know some of my peers do. They think that’s what the future will demand from them. I’m enjoying breaking the rules, cherishing my friendships, living for my favorite things, and having a good laugh. The tests will always be there.

When you love hard, but you’re a gypsy…

April 8, 2015

at 2:16pm, we casually strolled an open sidewalk in a latin suburb southwest of LA. with interlocked hands and synchronized steps. we walked with no destination to slow down time. any onlookers knew we were parting ways. they knew I was passing through. my bags labelled me as an international traveler with ID tags still attached to them from my previous voyage. I had placed my bags in the backseat as we loaded your car to head back to the city. I wanted to make a smooth exit with perspective that cloaked my heart. although, I wasn’t sad, detaching a bit seemed fitting. having my bags next to yours along the ride in the trunk seemed too connected. I hoped you weren’t offended by my shift in emotion on the ride back from our weekend retreat. this retreat had been a magic carpet ride with you and was either having a layover or was ending. I didn’t want to have feelings that I thought were too heavy and intense, yet I couldn’t fight their lingering presence. adjusting myself with these feelings that I had never experienced wasn’t so easy to finesse. in the moment, I knew we’d probably create more memories. it just bothered me that I didn’t know when and how they would come about. you parked, signaling a prerequisite to our final moments. I didn’t know whether to rush inside or to open my body for you again to commemorate the moment with what I’d hope would be more adventure and less awkwardness. or it could have resulted in the complete opposite. should we even commemorate at all? with my bags on my back, we kissed and I might have numbed my feelings to let logic prevail. as I crossed the street to head in, I contemplated. I didn’t want to walk away from you without looking back & making eye contact as my physical drifted away. although it seemed cliche, I wanted you to know that you were worth every second, no matter how simple it may seem. as the path got too narrow and distant, I turned around to wave. it was yet another sentiment for me, and worth the step outside of my comfort zone. once again, I had taken off my cool for you. I would go inside my cousins’ house to find it empty. my memories with you were enough to fill the room and more, but still I thought to call you, stop you before you got too far away, and invite you in to create more moments and extend time more with me. in this moment, it was the thought that counted. even after days together with laughter to tighten abdominals and sex to burn the fat, I wanted more. I liked the fact that I missed you and longed to create more priceless moments with you. my desire to give you more of me, have more of you & more of us aroused me and inspired me. it also gave me an abundance of serenity, humility, and gratitude, knowing that our connection is exactly what I had been longing for. hours later, you would message me. “come on and let me in, I’m callin'” — a lyric. it was like an omen… a song that made you think of me, as I’m thinking of you and my invitation(s).