I don’t want someone who’s just going to sit beside me and not work. I don’t want someone to “support” me with love and then reap from my rewards. I’m simply not that nice. Or perhaps I haven’t met someone so deserving yet. I can’t think of anyone who deserves to lay at home on a couch all day while the other person does all the work. I transfer this feeling to family and friends, too. Michelle spoke on President Obama and has been quoted saying something along the lines of reaching back through the doors of opportunity and helping others. I feel like… the door is open. C’mon on. You have two legs, too. You have a mind, too. You have eyes. You saw me. #FollowMe. Oh, so you’ll do it everywhere except in real life? Word.
The problem is, I love too well.
I’m just so tired of people. If you like me, awesome. If not… sounds like a personal problem, Jack. I wish I had a better understanding of what people want from me. Seems like everyone wants everything. Everyone wants you to be their everything when they should really just be happy for what they have for themselves. I can’t love everyone all the time.
I’m not around enough. I don’t call enough. But while you’re handling your business, I’m handling mine. It’s unfair for both of us to be constantly concerned with your life. Sometimes, people forget that others exist outside of them. It’s as if I’m a character in their movie… all along, I’m starring in a feature film of my own. While you should assign yourself the greatest value, you can’t insist that everyone treat you that way.
A year later I think…
I’m a regular fuckin person. While it’s exactly what people like about me, it’s what they understand the least. Everyone seems to want to be my friend because… I just kick it. But then, they want me to kick it with them all the time. & If I miss out on something, they assume I must not like them. They want me to respond to every text. to call and “check in”. To remember their anniversaries and the names of all of their siblings. Meanwhile, I have a family of my own and concerns of my own with obligations of my own. No, I’m not busy all the time, but I don’t necessarily want my face stuck in a phone forever –especially when we have nothing to talk about. Especially when I have life left to live.
“You have nothing to say to me,” I told him. It might sound rude, but it was the truth. He insisted that I mislead him and he thought we were “cooler” than we were. No, I corrected him, “We just have nothing to talk about.” I’d made dinner for 3 even though there were only two of us. He’d been complaining about bringing lunch to work, so I offered up my lone, pink Tupperware container so he could bring it to work the next day. What I couldn’t help but notice, though, was what he did while I cooked: Nothing.
I don’t know what I want my man to do, but I want him to do something. I want him to have something better to do in his free time than lay on my bed and look at the ceiling, thinking he’s made it. “I just gotta make sure you’re not the type of nigga who’s just gonna sit around and try to lay up in my bed,” I’d warmed him before he came over the very first time. He called me crazy for being so blunt, but broccoli on steam and fettucini on strain, I couldn’t help but to notice how much nothing he was doing. He didn’t browse a book on my shelf. Flip through a magazine. Nothing. This n*gga didn’t want to do anything. Granted, he’d go into work early everyday and probably wanted to relax when he got home, but that’s why my home and his home are two different places. I don’t know you like that, brotha.
I’m not about that life. Some people can be content with just getting the bills paid. Frankly, some people go to work everyday, work hard and hope to be promotoed –others try to take over the company. There are very different levels of ambition out there and we don’t all need to share the same view. But while I’m trying to take over the world, I can’t have someone by me who doesn’t feel the same. “Wassup lil’ Oprah,” he’d texted me. I told him I want Oprah money (TV show. Radio. All that.) “I guess that makes me Stedman,” he’d tried to get me to “LOL” and failed miserably.Even Oprah don’t want Stedman, but he’s steady in her face because she’s allowed that. Me? I want Oprah’s money, not Oprah’s life.
I need people in my life putting in as much effort as I am. And if they’re not, that’s fine as well, as long as you understand the effort that I put in was for me. I’m tired of all this “bring everybody” along nonsense, especially when every time I go to an open mic and share myself with the world, I go alone. I know who was and wasn’t there. You can’t fool me. You can’t play my conscience against me so that you can sit around and do nothing. As if, if I make it, you’ve made it. It’s not like that. To each his own. I understand you love me but, you never mentioned I’d have to pay for that.
Ella loves, but she loves Ella the most.