when i was a kid,
my mother bought me a doll.
i think my mother would have been okay with me being gay tbh.
it wasn’t barbie or a baby doll,
but it was def a doll the size of a ninja turtle.
i loved this doll and played with it along with my action figures.

the way i played with toys was usually superhero shit.
the female characters were either fighting or were “damsels to rescue”.
i would create worlds with my imagination,
often times taking boxes and making tanks or battleships.

well,
one day my doll up and disappeared.
anytime my grandmother wasn’t home,
i tore her house down looking for my doll.
at a young age,
i could sense fuck shit so i KNEW she had something to do with it.

when my mother died,
she admitted she tossed it in the trash.

when i tell people this story,
they were always empathetic.
i was also told from many people that incident created trauma too.
the things our parentals did to make sure “we weren’t gay“.
when i see parents like…

two weeks.
two weeks until the end.
two weeks until the trap door opens.
two weeks until i might be,
well,
homeless.

what do you do when the countdown to your next chapter feels more like a ticking time bomb than a fresh start?

i refuse to be the fox living out of his shoes…

Foxhole…

i’m so fuckin tired of bad news every fuckin’ Goddamn day.

like…

maybe…

we are too much.
we aren’t enough.
we say the wrong things.
we shouldn’t have fought back.
we were never the right fit.
we have been the square in the circle.

all of those things can be true.
we are not robots either.
i think what hurts the most is when we can say/font,
without the possibility of a doubt,
that we did nothing wrong in a conflict.
we do live in a climate of:

blind leading the blind off the cliff like some lemmings

…and there are a lot of muthafuckas who KNOW we were in the right,
or that we were the victims,
but the chose to turn the blind eye while we suffered.
we got thrown in the fire because it was easier than accountability.
they watched as our reputations got tarnished and never called the person(s) out.

the people who know their friend,
partner,
or family member is wrong and doesn’t say anything.

they tell us to fight back,
stand our ground,
and don’t take no shit but my question is…

we don’t realize other people are going through their own shit too.
i am so in my head about this housing shit,
i was brought back down to earth really quick.
now this doesn’t mean my issue isn’t stressful,
but when i talk/font to others,
i’ve been shown they are stressed TF out too.
one of my home vixens got to chatting last week.
i told her shit has been rough without going into too much detail.
so she responded that she….

lately,
i’ve been listening to the “waiting to exhale” soundtrack.
i know.
that isn’t a good sign.
it has me thinking about bernadine’s storyline in the movie.

she was the faithful wife,
thinking she was going to have a night out with her husband,
when he tells her that he is leaving her for a white vixen.

right now,
i am bernadine but i’m past the shock phase.
that was saturday when i heard the test of my emergency broadcast system.
today…