I need a healing for my soul
I need a healing for my soul
I need a healing
I'm putting a lot of things into perspective as I wipe poopie from my nose. I now understand how to interpret what The Spirit is saying. I know how to act on it. I can't be responsible for another mortal's soul. That's a cross they have to bear. I lay down my phone to cease text messaging. I walk to the threshold of my door and sprinkle some table salt. I open the door and sweep it out, down the stairs and into the street. I say a prayer and place a cross on the door with olive oil. This house is clear.
By no means am I a church lady, but I do have faith. I know what's immoral. I know evil when I smell it. I won't bend to someone else's will for their own personal pleasure. It's not in my nature. I do what's best for me and mine. Those of you on the fringes of my life are optional.
I'm experiencing love as it's intended to be: pure, gentle and unconditional. What I experienced in the past was not love. BD2, BD3, the "BF"...I didn't love those men. Those men never loved me, eventhough that's what I was told. When those words spilled forth from their lips, I knew it was fallacy. I was in love with the idea of being in love, something I sorely missed and wanted so badly. I too, have sputtered untimely "I love you's" knowing full well I didn't mean it.
I don't regret any of my experiences. They have shaped me into who I am today. I've never been this comfortable in my own skin before. Each of these transient people have served a purpose in my life. I appreciate them for that alone. It is not my place to question their virtuosity; that's between them and their God. I've had my times; I've done my shit. I'm not ashamed of anything I have done. I'm not afraid to face it.
"Yeah, I did that. And...?!?"
You don't have to trust me. (Yeah nigga, I heard what you said.) You don't have to love me. Shit, you don't even have to like me, but you will respect me. What I thought mattered before, matters not. Yes, I'm a bitch. Boss-ay! Cantankerous. Generous. Demanding. Loving. I don't apologize for any of it. I don't apologize for anything I've said in the past week or 24 hours. Those words came from my soul, and yes, I meant all of it. Well most of it. You know when I'm bullshittin, however, I can't promise you won't be on the receiving end of one of my tirades. When it hits me, it'll hit you sho' nuff.
"Do you still want him????" Naw baby, have at em. I know you do. I'd rather be alone than be with a manwhore. There's nothing there for me but and empty shell of what a man isn't. I detached a long time ago, well before I left him. With that first abortion, a piece of me died. It was my love for him.
Heading back to the gym; My pseudo church. I'm nervous, but I need it. My finger hoovers over Elmo's number. Not sure if I'm ready.
My 'gnac is done. I'm done yakkin.
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