I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my beginning was his end; after all, we were just friends. Although in my world, I was his girl, so I would pretend to be his wife, saying shit like, ‘Its only so many years in a woman’s life’, right, so I gave him 3. Yet he had the Audacity to step to me with this Donnell Jones I don’t know where I want to be type of shit??!!!!
Yo, it wasn’t supposed to be like this!! He hit me with the forehead kiss and told me that life was a journey and he was ready to explore this shit. And I was pissed. To me he was a hypocrite, like a fake preacher in the pulpit and he left me sick. And no he didn’t choose me, that doesn’t make him right or wrong. And just because he was the epitome of my life, that doesn’t make me right or wrong. Like I said, I was his friend, not his wife. And I should have acted within that capacity and maybe then this breakup would have been ‘One of those things’ instead of a fucking tragedy.
And all that time I spent mad at him, hell, I should have been mad at me. After all, I was the one who gave him the key to my house and let him hang his clothes in my closet, just in case we go out. Not to mention washing all his dirty clothes just to make a full load and letting him finish all the left overs just so the food don’t go old. For the times that we rolled raw cause he lost all the rubber and though I showed him more support than his own father, mother, brother and sister. And just cause those same people would dial my number when they trying to get in touch and he lists his mail in my address just cause he be here so much. Got total control of the remote control to the TV, DVD and Radio. And even though his name was not on my lease, he got shit in my house that’s off limit to me, like his side of my bed and his stash of weed.
But none of this obligates him to me. Because not once did we exchange vows. And if I knew then what I know now, I probably would have listened when he said there was some shit he needed to get out his system. But see I was too busy bitching, jumping, being like I was going to hit him. Cause in the back of my mind, all I could fathom was how much I was going to miss him. But just because I’m crying y’all, don’t mean I’m the victim. Just means I was scared to let him go cause some other chic might get him. And that was my fault because it was my decision. I should have never put my heart in my minds position. But I couldn’t shake him; he was like a bad habit.
And all this for a nigga that was just average doing average nigga shit. Like talking out the corner of his neck and thinking with his dick. But I must admit he is the one I wanted to commit to. So either I wasn’t living up to my full potential or I was just an ordinary chic. But I choose to believe I was a woman caught up in a feeling that was both physical and emotional, who was way too willing to give her all to a man. And though it may sound stupid, guess what? I would do it all again, just , next time for my husband and not that nigga I call my friend.