Blown Out Before You Lit…

Sepia’s in a funk of sorts today. There. I admitted it.

I’m having a for colored girls moment. Spring 2004, not the movie. My mood today reminds me a line I recited in a college revival of ntozake shange’s for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf.

I knew it would happen but I was so stupid I thought I could do something about it – Lady in Yellow

I’m still very much the Lady in Yellow. Impatient, observant and a mental fixer. Even when the situation seems doomed from the word go, I find a way to make it better – in my mind.

Sure, I’m talking about relationships, thanks for asking.

The recent funk is caused by yours truly. I thought I could make something out of nothing. That only works when you’re a magician and magician, I am not.

From the start, I knew I should’ve  gone  in the opposite direction or not even turned down that street but my mental gps somehow malfunctioned and I arrived at his address.  My car was filled with the stench of loneliness and he, like a match blown out quickly to mask the odor, was there to make things a little better.

Problem is, like that match, the smell only goes away temporarily. Temporary. Not permanent. Better off not being at all. The loneliness came back and I needed him to mask it over and over and over and… You get the point.

I sought his presence to aid in the emptiness I felt when nothing he could do or say was enough to get me to the fill line. His laugh, a drop in the bucket. His jokes, even less. Hugs, kisses, time spent, none of that helped. Not. One. Bit.

But why?

The more I gave him my time, the more the smell festered and got worse. While I gave him my time and attention, he took pieces of me. The hole got bigger. I needed more temporary relief. Nothing helped.

Which brings me to today. Better after typing a few words, really. Looking for a way out of masking. I need to remove the source of lack.  I need to let go. Erase the pseudo solution because counterfeit is not my style.

While there’s nothing like the real thing, I’ve embraced that I must let go of the fake. It will hurt. My ego will crave the sweet words… In the end, it will make me stronger.

Note to self: When you light a match, you have to let it burn a little longer. By habit I blow the match out before it can burn me. Message.

I’ll keep you updated…


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