" That's not fair and you know it," He gritted, " You're not the only one who blames themselves for his death."
" He's dead because of me, Exodus!" I yelled before I could even stop myself, " It should've been me laying in the fucking casket, not...
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Now playing.. Set You Free, by Bryson Tiller ... HARLEM, NEW YORK
LEAVING THE GRITTY STREETS OF BROOKLYN AFTER AN INTENSE WORKOUT, my mind was still absorbing Dwayne's straightforward advice. The cool evening air did little to ease the weight of my thoughts as I navigated through the city's bustling traffic, headed back to my apartment in Harlem.
The rhythmic hum of the engine blended with the distant sounds of the city, providing a momentary distraction from the internal turmoil. The yellow glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows on the pavement, mirroring the complexity of my emotions.
As the familiar skyline of Harlem came into view, memories of Selah, the girl who had always been a distant dream, surfaced. I couldn't escape the realization that I didn't have my life together, a truth made more apparent by the stark contrast between my aspirations and the reality of my choices.
Upon entering my apartment, the atmosphere shifted. The scent of familiarity mingled with unresolved emotions as I tossed my gym bag aside. Just as I thought I could get some peace and quiet, Chloe's high pitched voice punctuated the air, diminishing any type of solace that I had in this moment. " Where the hell have you been? I been blowin' up ya phone all fuckin' day,"
Chloe's frustration reverberated through the walls of my apartment. I grunted in response, throwing down my gym bag, " I was busy, and stop tryna act like my girl."
Dwayne's wisdom and directness continued to resonate in my mind, their echoes shaping my thoughts. After our conversation at the gym, I was left there to think about my own life. It was true that I really didn't have my shit together, not when Selah has always been the girl of my dreams.
However, Chloe entered the scene, becoming the person who, like a makeshift bandage, attempted to cover the wounds of my soul. In doing so, she seemingly turned a blind eye to the intricacies of my struggles, leveraging our connection for her personal gains without regard for the circumstances that surrounded us.
The only connection we really had, honestly, was the fact that we dated in high school. There was nothin' there, other than sex. I didn't have feelings for her; I didnt give a fuck - and still don't give a fuck- about the niggas she talk to on a regular basis. That's not my business, and I don't mix my personal life wit my pleasure.
She scoffs loudly, grabbing me by the arm and turning me towards her. " Oh, so now I'm not ya girl? but when we have sex it's a different story?"
" That's just all it is between us: sex. That's the only thing we benefit from," I sigh, dragging my body to the couch. Her bracelets clinked against each other as she walked, her black kinky hair pulled back into a high puff.
