Baby don't cry, you gotta keep ya head up... -TuPac
I picked my 'chocolate milk' up and sipped on it. It tasted a little off, but it's what got me through my day. Honestly, if you wonder what I am in life just know I'm nothing. I was a mother, but that was taken away from me. I live in a condo, alone, and sit there either reading, cleaning, listening to music, cooking, or watching TV. I have a kitty and she is fluffy, and white. She's one that at first I hated but now I have grown to love her. She has a special place in my heart♥.
I have a job, but it's not a job people consider as being "normal", if you ask me I think normal is a very bad term to use.
Just cause I suck cocks, and fuck constantly doesn't mean it's not normal. I just like to explore what the world has to bring, that's not so bad.
Right?
I'm 100% African, and I'd say African American, but American is no where close to my culture at least in my perspective.
My mom and dad had me at 32 years old. They love me and I love them. But! They were both strict as hell.
You had my dad who was reasonable, then you had my mom who wants things done her way, and her way only.
Lemme tell you what I mean by reasonable.
My daddy he was not "reasonable", as in if I got in trouble with the teacher at school he'll allow me to explain my reasoning, and then we could work something out.
He was reasonable as in letting me choose which object to get a beating in. But that was only sometimes.
I remember one day I had gotten in trouble for being 'disruptive' in Italian class. So I got detention. My mom was at church, and my dad had to leave work to pick me up from school. The car ride was SILENT, but the minute I stepped foot in that house I was already being cursed the shit out of before he had even slammed the door shut. He had that strong accent, and he gave me that look to enter his room. He slid the brown glossy belt off his pants and set it on the bed, then he pointed to the door where the other belts of his were proudly hanging, and said "pick". I pointed to the thick, black one, and the only reason why I picked that because it logically made sense.
It was black. Long. Thick. And simple.
Meaning the speed would be slow, and it wouldn't hurt as much. As least that's how I imagine it.
My mom. She was just as strict as my dad. She was just one who you could never reason with, and yall know what I mean by 'reason'. You get in trouble. Her thick accent would be yelling from afar distance. She'd use either...
1. Her bare hand, which you'd be surprise it actually hurt as hell!
Then you got the rest of the collection
2. Spoons
3. Belts
4. TV Cable (if she didn't have anything she'd normally use close around)
5. The clothing hanger
6. Her flip flops
7. Her heels
8. The list goes on...
9. The house phone
10. Books
11. The kitchen pots... Oh quick story. The first time my mom used a pot on me she beat my ass so bad. Later that day I got my first period!... wonder why.
But yeah my parents were great. If you don't look at their 'dark sides'. My mom would always talk with me, my dad would too whenever they weren't busy, and they were actually fun, and loving. I was the only child so I didn't have to worry about sharing anything, and they'd always tell stories about how they were like growing up. I guess they're the reasons why I am how I am today. At least during the day... not at night.
People love me, and people hate me. That's what makes me love me cause I'm either a person you can't stand, then or I'm that person you love.
I'm unpredictable. That's why I'm an entertainer *wink wink*
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^ there I am.
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That's it... 4 now. Did you like it? Let me know. I get nervous when I post chapters for this book... I don't know why. Positive feedback= higher confidence= chapters!... I hope. Questions??
