This issue, ladies and gents, is that we forget to love ourselves. Color me clichéd if you’d like, but there is only one reality: Yours. 
I had one hell of a weekend. One hell of a week actually. Made a super fast move to Brooklyn.  Here’s the real story: The way I was living was stunting my growth — it was also unproductive to stuntin’.  Before last Friday, I lived in a one-bedroom “share”. In this case, “share” meant that my roommates room was in the living room. It was like were were married but he was consistently in the dog -house. I’m not much  of a talker, but since the kitchen was, quite literally, in his bedroom I had to walk by him and pretend he wasn’t there. I suppose sometimes I’d seem like I was upset because I wasn’t speaking to him, but  I simply had nothing to say to him. So why’d I move in with this guy? Same reason I moved to Brooklyn: It was time for me to go. 
When you keep people in your life for too long, they become confused. Instead of focusing on themselves, they being to think they’ve some how formed you. Instead of celebrating in your growth, they attempt to see where they’ve lent a helping hand -they’d ask for receipts if they could. Seeing what they saw in you –forgetting you had already seen that in yourself –they claim ownership over your being. They confused loyalty with intellectual slavery. Eventually, they decide that what they think should be what you think. As if you’re marketing their name. As if they’ve bought your being. Funny thing about that is… who pays you?
The follow up question is…Are they paying you enough?

I was happy to wake up this morning.