But I’m so fuckin cute. And I don’t mind him. At all. I also don’t need him & that’s what’s most brilliant. 
        Meanwhile, xxxxxxxxx is acting like a b*tch.  When I told him, he laughed but I really can’t take it. It’s like dating a female. One of the couple reasons I could never be a lesbian is because women are far too emotional. When left alone to our devices, we come up with stories about what he might be doing where ever he supposedly is only to call our friends and justify our crazy. Now I have this fool talking about, “I’ll hurt you, runaway.”  Brotha, pleeease.  Secretly, these niggas are crazy. He’s convinced himself I’m concerned. Can’t you see I have better shit to do? Better shit to buy?  I’ll shop you outta house & home. #GetYourChipsUp.  When a man starts to complain about the damage I’ve done to his wallet, I consider him broke(n). If it’s not usable or profitable, I don’t want anything to do with it.

      I don’t owe anyone a god ddamned thing. You’ve got to be a big f*ckin deal for me to think you deserve reciprocation. My external hard drive crashed a couple of weeks ago. Since xxxxxxxx is an IT whatever, I figured he could fix it. During our two week “let’s try this gain” stint, I gave it to him with no comment other than, “just do it when you can.” The following weekend, I went to Baltimore for  Loyola’s 2012 BSA Fashion Show –it just happened to be my birthday weekend. But xxxxxxx didn’t call me. No big deal, but it was my birthday. I’m one of those people who will allow you to forget if you do. I don’t force anyone to celebrate me. But he tried to make it seem like my fault, because I didn’t call him -_- I  can’t with him. Then he wanted to hold my hard drive hostage (it’s pink y’all. It’s obviously mine) and charge me for fixing it (which he wasn’t able to do).

     Now, anyone who knows me forreal forreal knows direct attention makes me uncomfortable. I love attention, but I don’t like it all. I like to disappear when I need to and I don’t need the world’s recognition to hype my ego — I’m vain enough already.  The true issue is,  xxxxxxxx never really comes through. He’s a talker. He likes to talk about what he likes to do and likes to buy but when it comes to spending the money or (the toughest for him) being present and keeping his word, it’s like pulling teeth. I promise you these niggas are broker/lamer than they look -_-

    It’s not that I need a man to spend money on me all the time, but let’s not talk about labels if you’re not putting them on yourself. & if you’re putting them on yourself, you still ain’t shit to me if you’re not also lacing me. In other words, “what you eat don’t make me shit.” *shrugs* The reason I can’t publish this riiiighhht  now, is because every once in a while xxxxxxxx convinces himself to buy me a pair of shoes. *Shrugs* I let him express his emotions however he sees fit lol. Call me what you want but I deserve it. And that’s exactly what he says after my, “Thank you”. Problem is, he tries to buy me. He doesn’t notice it himself, but he does. He’s got it stuck in his head that I’m expensive. I mean, he’s correct but he’s got to get passed that and understand the reason behind the pricing. There are some people who walk into Gucci and purchase, others just walk into Gucci to exclaim about the commas on the price tag. I prefer the former.

       Everyone talks. Everyone knows everything, don’t they? They’ll tell you about your life in a minute. They’ll sit across from you and argue you to death about the shit they think you need to know. I sit back and let them aggravate themselves. When you stop asking questions, when you cease responding, that’s when people talk more. Then, they just try to say the shit you want to hear –as if to illicit conversation. As if, if they kiss your ass, you’ll take a liking to them.

       I’m in the era of “I love you” text messages from callers saved under “Ignore.” Of, secret wars waged within the minds of my foes. I beg my enemies to forgive me, for only God is required to show mercy on your soul. I’ve been through far to many battles. I’ve already had a conversation with my maker, it might be time for yours. The immediate moment you’ve found a reason to attack, my army draws its weapons and awaits my signal. Pretend it’s Troy if you want but remember Athena never truly  lifted a finger. I suggest you don’t push me. I wonder what weakness people think they see in me. As if I would be stupid enough to fall for their faux friendship.

I am far too grown. Please don’t play with me. Big dogs bite hard.

Ella ❤

PS: All my independent women #ThrowYourHandsUpAtMe