Skip to main content

To feel ignored...

Every day, that's how I feel. When I have strong enough feelings about something to speak about it, I'm always just ignored or passed off as crazy and not worth listening to. My concerns don't matter to anyone else and they aren't respected as real or genuine. That makes me feel like shit. Days like this are when I have thoughts and feelings of killing myself, because that would at least free me from the pain I have to deal with on a constant basis. My personal life suffers because I'm crazy. I have no career or job because I'm crazy. My relationships are strained because I'm crazy and paranoid. So why am my cries for release always dismissed as nonsense? I mean, if I'm only alive because others want me to be, how does that help me? If my desire is to kill myself, why do I not have the freedom to do so? Why am I bound here on earth in torture because someone else's desire for be entertained by my failures and faults is more higher up in priority to the Universe than my desire to be at peace and happy, even if that means I would be dead? Who decides these things? Why am I wrong for not wanting to be told I'm wrong every chance someone else gets? Why must I sit through long drawn out meetings and conversations because other people don't have command of their vocabularies and can't get the point of what they want to say in a minute or two? Why am I the bad guy or the angry guy or the mean guy because I like to skip past the bullshit and get the the meat of an issue, and if the meat of the issue is me, why can't I just remove myself and allow everyone else to do what they please as they please? Why keep me around knowing I am the problem and will always and forever be the problem around here? I do not understand. I am frustrated. I am confused. I am tired. I just wanna go home and have a little bit of peace for Christmas. Is that too much to ask?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Daddy is sick...

Today I got a message from one of my cousins that my Daddy was in ICU. I didn't know what to think then and I don't know what to think now. I've been to visit, and got to see my sisters and a few of my nieces and nephews while at the hospital. My Daddy and I have not always had the most loving and respectful of relationships, but as time has passed and we've both grown older, we have a new type of love and respect for one another that seems to work well.

Seeing him laying there weak and tired, really messed with me. But isn't this a part of life? Everyone we love will some day pass on, whether we're alive to witness it or not. My Daddy has been sick for quite a while now, but this is the first time he's unexpectedly been hospitalized and it's an unnerving situation to deal with.

There's nothing that I want or need to say to him that I've left unsaid. Every time we see one another we embrace and I always tell him that I love him. Years ago, that…

The Good Witch of the South, A Beautiful Black Glinda!

I'm not trying to weigh in on the reviews about The Wiz Live. I really don't care about what folks thought about the adaptations to the story or the way it was produced, etc. Everyone in it was pretty damn good, the costumes were amazing, and once again Black people have shown the world that we can take things that might be old and outdated and bring them back to life. The idea that an entirely new generation of Black children now have something they will beg their parents to let them watch and re-watch, like I did with The Wiz of the 70's, makes my world a little bit better place. 





For ME, the most memorable moment was when Glinda, The Good Witch of the South, descended from the sky in a golden glowing gown. Accompanied by two acrobatic beauties, also gilded in gold on each side of her, my girl Uzoamaka Nwanneka "Uzo" Aduba looked more like an African queen than a witch at all. Her hair was black and braided, and her curves were obvious and featured without apolo…

"Better You Than Me"

"Better You Than Me"

Maybe you can help me better understand
Why you act like a little boy and not a grown ass man
You try to run the TV, all day stuck on BOUNCE
And you're a fiend for the coffee, always begging for an ounce
You've claimed more than once all you do is "get money"
But I see you in here with nothing, so something is funny
At the top of your lungs you holler and yell
But make an excuse for your behavior, saying "This is jail."
You've got 6 kids, and 4 baby mamas
But you beg me for a click so you can call and cause drama.
You claim to be hard, snatching ass every day
But you expect me to be polite in all that I say
You're on your way back to prison and it's so sad to see
But I'd rather it be you going up the road than me.