Rotting From The Inside Out

Chapter 3: "Back To The Basics"

Rotney.

"I think ima call you Rottweiler or Rot for short." I scrunched my face up and stopped walking alongside Isaiah.

"Why?"

"Because you be acting like you got anger issues."

"Ion got anger issues."

"People who have genuine anger issues commonly don't realize they do."

"You ain't a doctor, though."

"I ain't gotta be a professional to understand that. The signs are there. They're clear as day, g. You got mad issues." That made me feel some sort of way.

"It's okay though. We all got issues. Clearly that's why we all in this bitch. Only then does it not become okay when we acknowledge these issues and don't do shit about them, ya feel me?"

I nodded. "I get you." We started walking in unison again. I tucked my hands into my pockets and hesitated for a moment. I hate asking for shit. Mainly because it feels like you need people and I want everybody to know that I don't need them. I wanted to go get the information myself but I felt odd even mentioning anything about it.

"So," I started as I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. I took a deep breath and parted my lips. We walked down the steps in the library until we made it to a table.

"Aye, look." I looked over at Isaiah. "This be how bitches be wanting you to treat them."

He pulled his chair out and gestured for an imaginary person to sit down.

"A chair for the lady." He said doing his best impression of a British accent. It was terrible. It really was.

He stood in the same imaginary space that he just gestured to not even five seconds ago.

"Oh-em-geeee. Thank you so so much, Isaiah. You are so sweet." He cooed in a falsetto. He hopped back in his spot and nodded, laughing.

"Man, bitches are some else, I tell ya. They want too much. But what you was just saying?"

I looked around the room and made sure nobody was near to hear what I was going to say.

"Well,"

"I'm growing mad grey hairs waiting on you, g."

"I wanna know more about this toxic maternity shit."

"What?" Isaiah screwed his lip up and scratched his head.

"Toxic maternity."

"You mean toxic masculinity."

"You know what the fuck I mean."

"Listen, I'm a hit or miss type of nigga. You either say it right the first time or these jokes gon fly." He laughed.

"You knew what I meant though." I said with a straight ass face.

"Sure I did but like I said, it's hit or miss. If you miss, these jokes gon fly regardless."

"So what can you tell me?" I asked getting right to the point.

I didn't like not knowing things. I didn't like being called names and I didn't know what it was or what it meant or where it came from. Made me feel stupid and I'm not stupid.

"Toxic masculinity," He started. He got up and trailed over to a bookshelf. He used his pointer finger and dragged it along the spines of several books until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the book out from its cubby and showed the front of it to me.