He got me out my momma crib.  Then he helped me get my momma a crib. 

– Kanye West, “Big Brother.”
     I can go a while without getting lonely. But eventually it kicks in again. To be honest, there was a point when I tried to fill the voids in my heart — rather ignore because my methods for fulfillment didn’t work and masked the issue instead. I would be more inclined to call men for comfort than to call people who really loved me… and I know this is going to sound super corny, but when I get lonely now, I call my mother. 
     I hated my mother for a really long time. Some people hate to hear me say that. And while I’d love to lie and say I always loved her, I’d be lying. It’s far too much to explain here, but I had my reasons. Mostly because I didn’t quite see my mother as my mother until I was good and off to college. The periods when I hated my mother were the points when I almost succeed at destroying myself. I willingly gave myself to men who didn’t deserve me. I found myself losing myself. After having lost so much more than myself, I see the true value of things now.

    I loved my friends more than I loved my family. That’s because I had my friends when I didn’t have my family. But luckily I had my family there as guardrails to make sure I didn’t fall into the gutter. And that’s how I’ve made it this far. I know that’s a vague synopsis, but I can truly only say so much. What I will say though is that there are times when I sit alone and thank my brother for how far I’ve gotten. Sometimes, I even consider kneeling on the cheetah print rug beside my bed and praying to gods I don’t believe in. All of them. In case one exists and not the other. I’m not ready to put all my chips in one basket just yet. 

  This Sunday, I sat in my room alone and for the first time in a while, I noticed that I was alone. I mean, Sundays are the loneliest days of the week when you’re single. My roommate was in his part of the apartment cheffing up vegetables for a girl who has been there almost 4 days now (I say has cuz she was there when I woke up Sunday and was there when left this morning & it’s Wednesday.) I typically try to stay away from couples… as if I might catch something. I mean, there’s nothing worse than being around love when you aren’t in it. It’s both nauseating and envy inviting. I want part of neither feeling. As I sat in bed (comfortable as hell) I looked around and realized I had no one. No one to come lay with me. No one to hold me. No one to tell me they love me, and that’s what I miss the most. I think that’s what trips women up the most. You just want to be loved even if it’s a lie. You feel like you have something when someone is saying that to you. Like you finally mean something. 
    I keep a picture of my brother on my nightstand. The one above. It’s a terrible picture, isn’t it? And really he’s only half-way in it. I’m the focal point. I had to have been maybe two years old and it was the time frame when my mom had cut all my hair off because I wouldn’t let anyone comb it. (Later on in life, when I would cry while getting my hair done, my mom would call my brother into the room, “ENVER!” and I would sit and sniffle the boogers into my mouth while I held back tears. Meanwhile  my mom yanked and Enver towered over me with his arms crossed.) But no matter how much of a homeless little boy I look like in that photo, I can’t get passed the smile on my brother’s face. & the fact that the picture was taken in the back seat of the red ’88 Cavalier we had. I don’t ever remember him being in the back seat with me although I remember countless times getting kicked out the front. There’s a little sister thing about my big brother being in the back seat with me that reassures me that the didn’t hate me. He might have even liked me.  So that’s why I’m positing it here. Because it means too much to me to care about what I look like. Besides, when you Google pictures of siblings, it’s two white kids or two black kids and my fmaily is a healthy mix of skin tones. We like versatility. & PLEASEE tell me this pic isn’t sooooooo 80s its fuckin beyond awesome. Y’all know I love the 80s. All two years I lived it lol 😉

     If you haven’t noticed yet, I couldn’t love me mother because I had willingly given all my love to my brother. After  my brother passed, my mother asked me, “Did you love Enver more than you loved me?” Very plainly I answered her, “Yes, I did.” Now you might think that was harsh, but I don’t think it hurt her at all. I think she knew the whole time. Truth be told, I think we all loved my brother more than we loved each other. He was the man in our lives. (Except for my sister, I guess –but I don’t doubt she feels the same to some degree.)

      He reminds me of what’s important. He’s the only person who could ever keep me grounded. If it wasn’t for him, I’d have been running around like the rest of them out there.  I remember that some random man can never fulfill me. That having a man in my bed means nothing for me and even worse for him. I keep the picture there to make sure I make a conscious decision if and when a man ever sees my bed. I remember how good I have it. Fully employed and inevitably moving forward. I remember that one day, I’m gon’ by my momma a house, even if I don’t have one for myself yet. I remembered that I deserved everything I was sitting around staring at. Even the bright city lights shining outside my window.
      He’s the reason for me. The reason why, even though I have a post called One Night Stands, it’s not what you think. The reason why in Birds of a Feather, I claimed my place as eagle and soared alone. It’s hard to be alone. To see people posting up pictures of themselves and significant others all happy in love. I want to be bitter. I want to play the “she aint even all that” game, but I can’t bring myself. The key to being alone and being ahppy is to find love elsewhere. Look for love in the places they will never falter. In people you never have to question. Those who truly never have to say it. Like I said, I call my mother. Call me what you want. I’m my mommy’s little girl & damned proud of it. 
      It’s not that I don’t need no man, it’s that I don’t need no man, right now. I’m not going to lie and say I wouldn’t like the company. That I don’t want to date. That I don’t want to get married had have children one day. It’s just that… that day ain’t today. So even while I’m excited about future possibilities, It don’t mean nothing to me. I already have a man in my life: My big brother.

And now… as I get ready to leave work, I can’t wait to go home to my empty bed & my book of Homeric poems 🙂 Cuz I’m the one payin rent in that muthafucka!!!!  whoop whooooopp!! lol