The pain, the pleasure, and the shame all drive me crazy and what gets me the most is that he claims he’s losing control, and yet he sees right through my most desperate attempts. I can’t stand it.

A good woman is proud. She respects herself and others.
She is aware of who she is. She neither seeks definition
from the person she is with, nor does she expect them to
read her mind. She is quite capable of articulating her needs.

A good woman is hopeful. She is strong enough to make all
her dreams come true. She knows love, therefore she gives
love. She recognizes that her love has great value and must be
reciprocated. If her love is taken for granted, it soon disappears.

A good woman has a dash of inspiration and a dabble of endurance.
She knows that she will at times have to inspire others to reach
their full potential. A good woman knows her past, understands
her present and forces toward the future. 

A good woman does not live in fear of the future because of her
past. Instead, she understands that her life experiences are
merely lessons meant to bring her closer to self-knowledge and
unconditional self-love.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't go visit you. I just could not face you. The man I always loved who took me to school and reminded me to wear shorts under my skirts is not you anymore. You've very nearly lost your mind. You don't remember my name and when you do you punish me for something that happened fifteen years ago. Hatred staining that wrinkled face of yours. The next second you tear up howling at the top of your lungs, "Who hurt my little girl? I'll kill them." You're not the man you were twenty years ago. I just couldn't face this person who stood before me. I'm really so sorry, Grandfather.

I used to write so effortlessly, so eloquently, without pressing the backspace key, without having to rethink the entire idea. The entire thought. But now, I stare at my keyboard, and I press the keys with hesitancy. If I get lucky, there are days where my mind is so full of passion and creativity, where I don’t have to hesitate on my choice of words. Where it’s heart and soul, poured into a teakettle and left to boil until is whistles my secrets into the ears of those willing to hear them. Poured into a teacup, steaming with desire to wisp into the air and disappear into the sound waves. Sip on my thoughts, but you’re not allowed to add sugar if it’s too bitter. See, it’s raw. There’s nothing else to add, but it’s only to enjoy. But some days, where my luck is on the run — I’m left with processed thoughts filled with societies fat doubts, drenched in the grease of my own doubts also. Pressed between the buns of ludicrousness. See, sometimes I have my mind — and other days, I’m left on a vicious cycle trying to catch it.

I'm so scared of the dark. I see shadows roaming. I think I'm going crazy. The shadows crawl across my floor and jump up five feet. They make noise as they move unconcerned with my presence. It scares me. They are here for me. They want to eat me. I am so alone. There is so much out there I don't know.
Someone, make it all go away.

I looked at her until she saw me

            “No really. Thank you. I was thinking of just going crazy black girl on their ass. I’m glad you managed to find another satisfying way of getting revenge. Tearing up that face she tries so hard to protect.” Again I only shrugged. After a while of silence she spoke again. “Hey, Snow,” She began. Her voice was low, sweet, hesitant but confident. “want to try dating?

            My head snapped to her face. “Just because I’m bisexual does not mean I will date anyone.” I proclaimed insulted.

            “Yeah, no, I know. But face it snow, you aren’t really good at keeping your crushes a secret. I mean, you tricked me into grinding against you when we were ten.”

            “I-I was ten. It’s been four years since then, my taste could have changed. I mean if I liked you back then and all…” I spoke away from her not having the confidence to say it to her face.

            She called to me; her voice laced in sarcasm. She continued repeating my name until I turned to her. She was so close the corners of our lips touched as I turned. She backed her face away a little so she could examine my face properly. “Then why are you blushing?”

            “B-because! O-o-ou-our lips just touched! Anyone who doesn’t have much experience would blush!” I tried to talk my way out of it but my body was stiff with excitement. “Besides, if I did date you I would just be a rebound. It’s kind of messed up that you would do that to me. And! You don’t even like girls. You shouldn’t try dating girls just because you think since most girls know how it feels to be hurt she won’t hurt you. Girls can hurt boys too you know. Girls hurt ten times worst. Just look at the tramp. Apparently she had a boyfriend too. She cheated on her sophomore, and baby daddy, boyfriend with an eighth grader. That’s among the biggest insults you could do to a guy in high school.”

            She was silent for a while. I was squirming in my spot unsure, nervous, and excited. She was right about one thing; I was no good at keeping my crushes a secret especially after getting kissed by them. I kept thinking about how soft that corner of her lips was. How delicious the taste of tequila tasted on her lips. I bite my lip remembering it. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.