Autobiographical Scars

I believe there are only two kinds of people in this world, those who admit they are nerds  and liars. I am my religious. My faith in God never existed however, I think heaven is not something we die to get in to. 

I went to an prestigious HBCU, which means I am black and know profitable ways to have have things shipped in three days or less but I don't know the names of the ones who deliver the mail everyday. 

I am a daughter of a man who never misses a home cooked meal or skips house house chores. My name is like a powerful secret that people will get to know. I am 5 foot 9, and a half on a normal day. But being built like a tall story is a lesson to find other ways to be the dominant one in the room.

I thought I knew what it is like to be a woman and for a little thought another man could tell me. But I've heard stories of women like pistols towards men and use their bodies as tools but I was raised to be a good girl. Yet I have hands bruised with callouses and tears and I am still learning to unlearn society's womanhood. 

I am reminded that a woman of a good heart is like a gun with the safety left on while other women are still searching for their womanhood inside genitalia and materials. Women who remote control their partners because they are probably not strong enough to let things go and carry an addiction of materialism in our blood.

As a kid, I didn't care for such things but still wanted to feel like I had something in the world I can own. I know the most beautiful thing about love is that it cannot be controlled or owned. There are some days I am this 12 year old girl who still enjoys a simple fantasy novel. I don't watch TV as much anymore. I am still a cartoon kid at heart so if you ask me "what's up doc?" I can tell you "I'm hunting..." who. I've been fortunate to never break a one in my body but had my heart broken more times and I don't know which is painful to heal.

I have the heart the size of this Earth but never truly found self love until it was given and taken away from me. The feeling of loneliness is trying to devour me inside out. I am the silent one like a tree falling in a forest because there is nothing autobiographical than a pure scar. I see the remains of the barcodes carved into my sensitive skin barely able to get out of bed. I am black and woman which means, I am a sharp, blunt object that threatens to slit the throats of silence that bleeds emotions. However, I know all of this and still trying to hold onto this thing called happiness. It is down to a science but sometimes I have less confidence than California weather. I am learning everyday to be almost human.