Like N*ggas

 8.19.11

 Exactly one year ago, I thought....

I don't really like niggas. That's the problem.

No one ever has it completely. They're always missing something. Mostly, I'm just... not attracted.

People are funny looking. And I'm not saying I'm gorgeous, but there's that one thing that throws a person off that you don't notice until you get close. I'm afraid of that thing. I'm afraid of having it and of seeing it.

8.19.12

Today I think... 

Maybe it's not that that person isn't attractive, but if they aren't the one you picture yourself spending the rest of your days with, it might look out. It might be a sign. 

Anti- Broke N****s

        I'm tough to deal with. I live in some sort of fairytale that turns most people away. & the fairytale I dream of every night opens with a hallway full of mirrors and chandeliers. My dreams, though, turn to nightmares soon as I wake: Ceiling bare and walls too close for my taste. Not enough windows. Not enough air. Not enough space. I'm happier when I'm asleep. & in this terrifying nightmare of a reality, my dream home belongs to someone else. That should be mine, I think upon waking. And from there I go. From there it happens. All of my thoughts are punctuated with dollar signs. I construct mental blueprints. Plots. The possibilities change. There are deviations. I brainstorm. But the end goal is always the same. I want the money. Cold. Hard. Cash. Fuck what you heard.