It’s harder than you think. It’s tough to be happy. To be truly happy. But I try. I try my fuckin hardest, I swear. Second to that is how difficult it is to be myself –not in actually being myself, I do that brilliantly, but in dealing with people while being comfortable with myself. When you’re alone people assume you’re lonely. When you’re with someone, they only want to hear the dirty secrets. They expect it to fall apart. Everyone doubts how much you like what you like and would rather hear the story of what you went through over what you aim to accomplish.

      This is a dirty world.  Friends clench teeth behind curled up smiles as they wish you the best (as long as it’s no better than them and/or if they might be able to eat off you when the time is right). People who need partners-in-crime get caught up. Secrets are for individuals. Once you tell your secret, it’s not a secret anymore. The people around you and the things they can say about you make all the difference in the world. That’s why I pick and choose carefully. That’s also why everyone knows –no matter how often we’ve exchanged the word “Friend” –that I an a lone soldier. A wayfaring stranger of sorts. Few people understand what I’m talking about all the time & very little of me cares to explain in detail.

       No matter what you say, people begin to make up their minds about you before you have time to explain anything. The smart ones register, first, what you can do for them. I hold it against no one when they pretend to unconsciously take advantage of me. I give only what I’m willing to. Mostly, I’m a kind person. But I’ve never done anything I didn’t want to. I’ve done plenty I shouldn’t have… but I calculated the weight of my mistakes when I made them; I’m a woman about mine.  I’ve been far too involved in private conversation and it makes me nervous. I don’t like to say anything behind closed doors I wouldn’t announce to a stadium full of people. Still, I find myself holding my tongue out of pure kindness. Not even that I have anything bad to say… but you can’t trust people can’t to see passed their hate. 

      It’s far too easy to become self-concious. I’ve doubted myself once or twice in the passed couple weeks. Three times actually, so I’m done for the spring. Not ashamed to say I’m quite proud of myself. I maintain a (semi) steady #Grind and try to involve myself in the world as much as possible. I went to @SWFashionWeek last Wednesday & my nerves acted up. @TAsterisk had gotten me on the list, but someone failed to relay the information to the guy at the front. No one’s fault *shrugs* just shit I’d rather not deal with. When I get nervous, I get jittery. From the outside, though, I play cool. I pretend I own every fucking thing I touch.  If you ever need a demonstration on how to walk up in a place like you own the joint, meet me at Tiffany’s on Sundays. To everyone who’s witnessed, I am the [wo]man.

     When I’m not 1000% business, I concentrate my entire being on being the best person I can be –while helping others aim for the same. Like I told my boss last week, “I can carry the world on my shoulders if I wanted to.” I’m quite dramatic, but I’m also quite correct. I don’t like to see anyone have a bad time. A bad day. A bad minute. A bad anything. Secretly, (& not so secretly) I call myself “The Upgrader.” Upgrading situations is simply what I do. No one has a bad time with me –unless I want them too. & typically, even when I’m cold to people, they admire the cruelty as it slips my lips. 5’2 with a small frame –they think I’m a game. People don’t do shit for me. *shrugs* They have little effect on my actions and less effect on my profit –unless they are the reason behind it. There are people who motivate you and those who distract you. People who pray for you and those who plot against you. Then there is the simple majority. They have little effect on… anything. They’re the haters and the nay-sayers. Dream-killers and devil’s advocates. They make you want to quiet down though you have something to say. They take pleasure reminding you that wishes are weighed on chance while being far too interested in which basket(s) you choose for your eggs.

       I always do what I need to do. When I’m at work, I’m working. When I’m relaxing, I’m relaxing. But I’m on my #Grind 1000% of the time because my grind is simple enough to do all the time: I think. I think about what I do. I employ my mind. You see, no matter what venture I take on, I get nervous. I get antsy. I think of what my mother would say. If my brother would approve. If my sister would judge. I think of what every decision means –to me & how I can explain it to everyone else. When I tell my husband my stories what will he say? It doesn’t matter where I am –night club, L ride, fashion show, movie theatre, Twitter — I’m the same me. Every action I make in each of those places attaches itself to me. So I can pretend to be 1000% business on Twitter & right here on EllaThought.com, but I promise I’m 1000% business on L rides as well. I’m the type to pass out cards or CDs at the club –if I go– because I need to have a purpose. I need every move I make to be beneficial.  I’ve been thinking lately about the bills I have to pay. I’ve also begun to consider the bills I want to pay. (You don’t know my expenses, I need a bigger place.) After I think those things, I think about how few people are helping me afford the shit I have to pay for. I count them on one finger: My mother. I have another special finger reserved for the rest of the world, but I’ll be a lady and refrain from vulgarity even once in while. With that said, I will also be a lady. I’m still upset at the fools who have tried their hand. My anger stems mostly from the fact that, if you tried me while I was 1000% business, it’s seems to me that you doubt my #grind. I wouldn’t recommend that.

    I constantly lose respect for people. Luckily, I respect myself enough to know better than disrespect others. Still, I show love to everyone. As goes the bond @AyoBossBitch_ and I based our detachment from others on, when I come up, I bringing everybody with me. Haters included. Nay-sayers included. Dream-killers first. The only people I’ll let sit on the sidelines are the liars –the ones who claim to value my friendship but see my tattooed dollar sign before I have the chance to show it to them. I take my future/money very seriously. Unfortunately, others do too.  I check everyone. I plainly point out all people with ulterior motives. I screen all phone calls with nothing to discuss. I pay close attention to all conversations with the word “friend” in them. I note and register when “friends” try their hand. I avoid all plans planned on finding a way for him to be invited upstairs. I’m disgusted with all men who can’t be gentlemen if they’re not getting skin. I pity all females who pretend chastity is such a difficult task. I stop listening to all people who talk about things they don’t have. I question everything everyone thinks they know about me. I can’t tell you what to do the same, but you probably should.

    It’s been said before: “I try to pretend I’m different, but in the end, we’re all the same.” *Shrugs* I went to lunch with @Aayana yesterday and we talked about… people. We touched on my mess, her mess &, finally, the Rihanna & Chris mess *shrugs* (Check out @ONESpotlight’s post on their collabo’s here.) @Aayana brought up a good point (actually a friend’s point) about how Rihanna & Chris are  [my] age. We’re young. We’re making mistakes. We’re fuckin up. But are we really?  (This is the moment when I separate myself from “we”.)  I’m not *shrugs* I go to work. I go home. I indulge in my vice of choice –which hurts no one but me –in the privacy of my home. I go to movies. I go to museums. I read books. I listen to music. Where am I  really fuckin up? Or are people just too afraid to behave well? Was Rihanna’s last CD almost completely about sex because she’s really that much of a freak, or does sex simply sell as well as it always has? A girl with her lack of personality might have a tough time with peer pressure. –Nothing against Rihanna –IDK the girl, forreal– but we don’t know who she really is, do we? No matter how many CDs she’s dropped. It’s possible we’ll never truly know, but that’s the trouble with having the outside you be more important than the inside you.

      “I’m becoming a better person,” I told her last weekend. I sat across from the most beautiful gray-haired woman in the world trying to apologize to each strand in case it happened because of me –and I’m sure most did.

      “I see it,” she responded. My mother, like any other, is my biggest fan & most dedicated supporter. She always has been. But if you asked her to tell you the truth about me, she’d tell you I wasn’t always the conscientious person I am today. She won’t hide if from you because the shit I did was always too big to be hidden. I was selfish & I know this for a fact because it was her who told me. “What’s your point?” I’d respond. I must’ve been 14 first time she told me the truth about myself… I *shrugged* a lot back then. Pissed her off a lot, I’m sure. But I was always bright. Brightest bulb in the box & I’d put my money on it –My mother actually did & worked two jobs to send me to the private high-school I  decided to go to. From 8am-3pm, I was the perfect kid. But higher learning sparked something in me & after 3 pm, I was too grown for my own good. Before she’d go out and tell people my latest teenage fuck-up, I’d tell her, “You need to watch what you say to people. Don’t tell everyone my business.” She just thought I was being the little bitch I was frequently assumed to be. (I’ve always been too much of a boss for everyone’s good.) My mother pained and put up with it, but not without great reward. Now I’m pretty much the only one doin’ shit. I’m the only one who made it to where I said I’d make it: Degree’d & childless. Meanwhile, I’ve held onto my billionaire dreams. You see, the little people think they know about you is everything they know. They fool themselves into having all the details –basing their opinions of you on shit they heard you might have done when you were 16. I was never much of a story -teller, so either you were there… or you weren’t. But if you weren’t, I’d say that conversation doesn’t quite concern you, now does it? 🙂

         I can’t sit and pretend I’m better than anyone. That’s probably why I never have . *shrugs* But I’m proud of all my actions. My distance from the world comes in when I fail to understand why it’s so hard for people to make good decisions on their own. Instead, we make great excuses for poor choices. I’m not wit it. *shrugs* Yes, we all fuck up. But perhaps the real tragedy is that we all do not learn. We have not learned that we don’t have to fuck up. There are few true mistakes in this world: If you read through this and found typos, those are mistakes. I did not mean those. I probably did not know those happened when I did them. I did not chose to spell anything incorrectly. I was careless. As I reread this, I’ll try to catch them all and revise as needed, but since I am human –and without a copy-editor on payroll — you must allow my humanity to leak through on occasion. But when you have control over what you do, and you make the choice to do wrong, I feel there is no excusing you. Perhaps we don’t think in those moments. Or perhaps we think it’s cool. Perhaps there is an excuse ready and waiting for us to abuse and take advantage of –although I’ve always been able to control myself after a half-memorable night of indulging in far too much in a little it of everything. & you can claim you don’t remember a thing… & even if no one wants to speak on it in public. People know. & they speak on it in private –and those conversations are the most lethal.

      I’m tired of excuses. I’m tired of it being okay to be a poor excuse of a person. You should do something. Not only with yourself, but for the world. What is your purpose? I simply want to be the best person I can be –I’m not sure of who’s watching. But when I give my cards to young women in the street, I hope to give them faith in the future and hope in themselves. You don’t have to be like the other girls –no matter how much you love them. “Just remember to always be you,” is what I told  @AyoBossBitch_‘s little sister. (She’s got some friends who look/act a bit too grown at 14, so her big sister is playing “big sister”.) “No matter what they do, just don’t be like them. Think for yourself,” I told her. There’s really nothing more to say to anyone. You’ve got to use your mind and employ it.

       Ladies, we are better than this. Your minds work better than this. It’s okay to pronounce your words fully, (somewhat) cover up when you go to the club & avoid situations with men who don’t deserve you. It’s really okay. Let them call you stuck up. Let them think you think you’re better than them –if that’s what they want to think. This world is yours. Take control. Better yourself.