Maybe Another Time

I love the sound of happy people falling into misery. Especially those who smile all day and night singing kumbayah, everything will be alright. Then they say, "Everything happens for a reason."Don't worry, it will all be ok." The words of lives untouched by struggles or chaos abound.

Victimized and broken has been my right of passage to behave like a monster. My subconscious replays the days when I gave grace. A time before my love and kind heart were destroyed for others' personal gain.

Human beings are completely untrustworthy. The only time they are honest is when their mouths are snoring. I have days when I think about the former person I used to be. Then, I wake up to the identity of the true nature around me. A people full of wicked and malicious minds, dirty fiends.

Today, someone decided to help me. I felt the words try to leave my mouth, but bitterness wouldn't let me. Oh, well, maybe next week.

What a sinister existence the world we live in. Just the thought of gratitude seems like fiction to me. So many ups and downs accompanied by roundabouts. It's difficult to open our eyes beyond our mishaps, struggles, and doubts.

Meanwhile, we're blinded by anger, as real-life guardian angels in the forms of strangers are sent out to keep us safe from certain dangers.

I, I, I ... Me, me, me... Self-centered egotistical and stuck in, "woe is me." Completely oblivious to rightfully distribute any forms of gratitude.

I remember a time when all I would say was, "Yes, please, and thank you!" Now, I'm like bump you. Oh, you'll hold the door for me? That's what I thought. It’s truly how it should be!

This particular morning started rather lovely. The trees, bees, and rain storms how sweet.

The neighbors wave hello as their painted smiles soon follow. Like, let's be real, no one is ever really this happy every day of the week, chile, please.

I counter with an unauthentic eye roll and wave-like Craig's mom in the movie Friday. "Heyyy," as I quickly scurry away.

Now of days I'm perfectly fine, not going out. Introverted and completely content not seeing your face or your friend Carolynn. I digress a cup of coffee, and it seems best. The way it warmly runs down my esophagus. So, into the cupboard, I go. A nice cup of espresso and an episode of Catfish.

Those fools are always down for the madness. I know the dude is married, but he just hasn't met me yet! We could chase drama together, you know what I mean? As I drift off into a world of fantasy, I ransack the cabinets in preparation for the madness, drama, and disasters. Only to discover I've run out of bustello.

Oh, hell no! Now I have to go to the store and interact with people. The misery begins to set in just the thought of faces brings a putrid flavor from deep within. Ughhh. Off I go to the local store when just then I spot "the" thot and with a flick of the wrist, I sent Tristan the finger. That trick cut me off on route 56 being a little biznitch...

No disrespect to female dogs. At least they are loyal one and all. Beep-beep honk-honk, move out the way, punks. I'm late, I don't want to miss Max, Nev, and all these fake folks pretending to be pretty or great.

Whoop-woop, I have arrived! As I whip into the lot to find, there's only one parking spot. It was up front marked handicapped. So, I did what any good citizen would do, I wrote a note, and it said, "Missing handicap sticker," as I proceeded to strut up the street. Confused by the stares and shaking heads looking directly at me as I walked inside.

Best believe my head was raised high full of confidence. After all, "Catfish is the goal," I begin to think about the hillarious reveals that will take place in the show.

Suddenly, a young lady from across the lanes catches my focus. She was holding the door for me, and I felt like a queen. Best of all, they know who has arrived to bless their eyes and just in time. I walk like I'm in an episode of Supermarket Sweep. My skin is becoming itchy like hives from my head down to my feet.

I glance up to fake boobs and butt cheeks, and that's all I see looking at me on the arm of scuba Steve. Where is the coffee? Finally, I spot the bustello, and now I can get ready to leave. Whoopi! Remind me again why self-checkout has a line? There's literally no cashiers, I know those fools are hiding.

Twenty minutes later, I'm finally ready to ride. Man, I hope there's still time to see Nev, drink coffee, and unwind. I've learned a lot when watching Catfish, like how love is blind!

What a pleasant drive home so far! A few car accidents, couples arguing in the streets, the neighborhood kids were bullying Sean again. Oh, how magnificent this trip has been.

I even did a real wave at Pastor Dave and with no shade. Then, out of nowhere, I hear the sound of trumpets playing as my life flashes before my eyes. With no time to make any edits or rewrite my story. I'm well aware I've not lived many of my days in glory. I awake in the hospital to see the doctor and some nurses staring at me.

Then they whispered to one another, "she's awake. Call Tristan in quickly." Man, the freaking irony to have to learn that this heifer rescued me, helped me through recovery, and also pursued a court case for me.

In bitterness, I thought this couldn't be. Long story short, I was found to be at fault. I was ordered to anger management and to keep a journal of gratitude. So, as you can see I write in it now, extremely begrudgingly.