|I am filing an order or protection against my father... JUST READ and COMMENT
||[Jan. 12th, 2009|04:28 pm]
I still have feeling for that jerk-off Jordan. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy at all, and I know that we broke up only a couple of months ago, but I can’t get him out of my mind. I wonder if he’s hurt by this, I worry that he’ll find someone else, and I worry if I’ll ever find love again. He’s always in my thoughts. I often wonder if he thinks ever things about me, and I wonder if we lived closer to one another would we have actually hit it off and fell in love. I wonder if it would have lasted longer and I wonder if it was worth our time and effort. I was so in love with him. I would have moved to be closer to him if he was willing to sacrifice for me. I’m not sure any longer. It’s been so long that I’ve dated a woman that by now, I think my mojo is gone. I addition to that, I honestly believe very few women find me both sexually and personally attractive. By this I mean, a person who would want to date me as well as sleep with me. Guys are the same. If there was a guy that I found attractive that found me attractive beyond my sexual exterior, then I would probably date him. But in reality, both sexes scare me and bore me. They scare me because of the power I give them when I’m in a relationship with them, and the bore me because I haven’t met a single person without the ability to enjoy a relationship without constant drama. Granted, drama is everywhere, but too much of it numbs me. That’s what happened with Patty and her Electra complex, and that’s what happened with Jordan and his forever-a-tween dilemma. Nonetheless, I still pine for his affections and at the same time, I’m too proud to call him to tell him that I want him back. Thank God I am, because it would require a lobotomy on my end or a significant change on his part on his end. But I guess, that’s my fault—I always blamed him even when we were both wrong. Maybe one of these days I’ll write a confessional about it.
On Friday night, Regina came over around 3 p.m. and we hung out for a while at home and at the library. We walked from my home to the Mohawk Commons, a strip mall, and we met up with Sadé in a local Out Navy store. Then, the three of us went to the local Barnes & Nobles, talked and ate. I grabbed a few books, dropped them at the front counter, and we went back to my place to pick up a book I ordered. It was the wrong book and I wanted to return it and trade it for another book. We went back to the book store and I picked up the books “Boy Culture” and “B-Boy Blues” (I order the sequel to this on accident). I also picked up Beyond Race Magazine. I may send my resume out to the magazine. It’s not groundbreaking, but I like it nevertheless. We go to Target because Sadé needs as purse and Regina wants popcorn. We talked about politics, being black in America, feminism, journalism, and what music has become. We went to the Spectrum. I saw Amine there. We talk for a while and then we went to see “Milk” starring Sean Penn and Prop 8 poster boy James Franco. After walking out of a silent theatre, Sadé races a bus and Regina and I go home via bus. My brother, his two friends (PJ and DJ) and my friend Siobhan are on. We talk for a while. Then after we get off, Regina and I share poems in my bedroom. Regina’s mom comes to pick her up around 2 a.m. (who knows why?) and I go downstairs and watch Invader Zim with a bunch of teen boys and my cousin Alexis.
I did nothing on Saturday. I need more friends to do things with when I come back home! I was fucking stir-crazy. Later, I spoke to Erik. We haven’t talked since October, and he had nothing to share, but it was nice to know that he was safe in NM. He asked if I was still a virgin for some odd reason. I wanted to tell him something sexy like “why don’t you come over here and check!” in hopes that he would reply, “I’m already in route!” But instead, I just said yes and talked about what went wrong in my last relationships, and why I suck at life. What can I say? I have no “game.” We laughed and talked for a while and went to sleep.
I woke up late Sunday and was asked to come over to my sperm donor’s house for dinner. There, I talked about my upcoming trip to NYC (I was asked to do an interview with rock band, The Script) and I needed money to take a Greyhound. But this is the shit head that left me without food or money in New York when I interviewed over the summer. Nevertheless, we were having a fine time. That is until his on-and-off girlfriend of 15 years (we call her Snoopy) asked my father to take me to the store in their new car so I could buy her some cigarettes. Along the way, she asked “dad” to go and pick up my bitchy little half sister. After waiting in the car 20 mins., she comes with bags in tow. We go to the store, we go to his place. My brother and his girlfriend greet us at the store, my half-sister then bum-rushes past my “dad” and walks through the door. She slips and falls on her bum. Needless to say, everyone laughs and I laugh pretty hard. Well, I don’t like being hit in the face or in the genitals. So, who does she take her rage out on? That’s right… me. So, while I’ll laughing, this cunt (yes, I’m a feminist, but I mean it!) pulls me down, puts all her weight into my palm, and slaps the shit out of me. This girl has hit grown folks before and “daddy” dearest doesn’t care one bit! So, what did I do? I snatched that little bitch up, put some weight into my palm [but not as much as should have ;)], and I slapped the shit out her! Needless to say, my
father” wanted me to apologize. I said sorry, but not for my actions. A moment later, he’s angry. I hand them the chump change he gave me earlier in the night and I try to leave. He doesn’t like this and Mr. “Anger-management issues” nearly chokes the life out of me. My brother “persuades” him off of me, and after having him chase after me with his face in my face, cursing and swearing at me (I’m walking away without a tinge of fear, saying anything but letting my feet do the talking)… I get away. After shedding some tears, talking to Tee, Regina, Grandma and blowing off my plans for the night with Frye—I call the police and they charge him and her with harassment (Awww, my little half sister has a record) . This kind of thing has happened ever since I turned 12 or 13 (since her birth; the first time I wound up in a hospital for the night). In the last couple of months, I have been feeling like I’ve been branded the target practice! Mom attacks me in July and “dad” on Sunday. Whatever… you know. Anyway, I’m going to family court tomorrow morning and I’m going to file an order of protection to me. I am convinced he wants to kill me. He’s dead to me.
Question of the day: “Am I wrong?”