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ISIS. Mon. 10:00pm
At times, late into the night when my boyfriend, Hakeem, wasn't home and able to abuse me I'd sit on my couch wondering what I did to deserve the blessing and curse that was my life.
The fame. The money. I had it all. The things that made a person feel whole. But on the inside I felt so fucking empty. As if something was missingeven thoughI had everything in the palm of my hands.
Maybe I sounded greedy and maybe there was a slim chance I was greedy, but I didn't care. I needed something, something that filled the loneliness I felt all the time.
But Ididn't know what or who that something was.
Was it my family? The people I haven't seen in over four years? The same people who turned their backs on me and forced me to date Hakeem. The ones who shamed me into feeling as if my sexuality was something I should be ashamed of? I didn't miss them. I missed the good memories, but they weren't that something I needed.
Maybe it was Hakeem? The old Hakeem who use to be my best friend before all this shit went down with us. The sweet Hakeem who use to buy me flowers, take me on dates, and practically worship me. A part of me missed the man he use to be; but the other half of me saw him for who he really was. A man too caught up in his own insecurities to care about our life.
I didn't miss my family.
I didn't feel greedy for Hakeem.
I didn't want anything from my past.
I needed something new, something better.
"HOW 'BOUT THIS one? A lil wool sweater would be cute on you!"
It was twelve in the afternoon and Irina Beldi was on a mission to get me a whole new winter wardrobe before our flight tomorrow morning. She'd invited me to spend winter break with her family back in Atlanta and me being the lonely person I was, I agreed.
Irina was probably one of the sweetest people I'd ever get the opportunity of crossing paths with. She was always smiling, always bringing in a light wherever she went and in the year that I've known her she's manged to become like a sister to me.
Grinning, I looked at myself in the mirror as Irina held the off white sweater in front of me, flashing that pearly perfect smile of hers. I had to admit everything she picked out for me was cute. I might ask her to be my stylist because the woman had a gift.
