I want to sprinkle rose petals all over my life right now. Not because shit is perfect, because it’s definitely not, but I think a few rose petals would smooth out the kinks that are there right now. I’ve been feeling very soft and pink lately. I think it’s because I’ve finally upgraded to 3.5 inch stilettos now, got this glamorous 22 inch Kim Kardashian weave, and I’ve been wearing dresses and skirts a lot more as well. I was walking down the street one day and someone yelled out “Tyra Mail!” from their car window.

I’m lying. No one did that.

I registered for 5 classes this summer. Online classes. An extra piece of information: summer school is only 7 weeks long. Am I crazy for that? I don’t think so. I’m focused and motivated as hell. Plus, I don’t feel like going on that hot ass campus during the summer nights, for 3 hours each night. One of the classes is Physical Education. My homegirl asked me how can you take Phys Ed online. I told her by doing jumping jacks, via webcam, for 30 minutes each day. No bra. Nipples just spinning in circles, looking like they’re turning a double dutch rope.

I have a very creative mind. Don’t judge me.

Have you ever found yourself in complete bliss to the point where you were just waiting for the shit to fuck up? You sit there pondering “Okay, when is this going to turn to shit?” And you sit there anxiously tapping your fingers for the big bang. That’s what I’m doing right now. Although, I find right when I talk too soon, it turns to shit. lol, isn’t it ironic? Oh well, such is life. That’s why you keep backup plans.

We will see. In the meantime, I’m about to make it rain with these leftover rose petals. I’ll save some for later.

“damn, i fucked up” – written by chanel
he’s glaring at me
shaking his head
wondering why i did what i did
disappointment arises.
I whisper: damn, i fucked up.
i apologize repeatedly
tried to give him the sad face
and reach out to hug him
he declines.
I whisper: damn, i fucked up.
he continues to bicker…pointing at me
expressing his anger, capitalizing
he goes for the front door
unexpectedly, i cry
I whisper: damn, i fucked up.
he pauses at the doorstep
negativity evaporates from his spine…
ashamed, i turn away, not ready to endure more
with sternness, he says my name.
I whisper: damn, i fucked up.
gently, he turns me around, facing him
he wipes one tear away
however, unfazed by my “grief”, he frowns
shaking his head once more, he whispers “goodbye”…
he continues out the door.
I whisper: damn, i fucked up.
with my head down, i hide my shame
with my back turned, i hide my vulnerability
with my eyes closed, i hide the reality
with my arms crossed, i hide my heart,
with my mouth closed, i hide a smile.

damn, i put on a good show.