A Letter to Him

Dear My Rhythmic Heartbeat (aka The Healer to My Wounded Soul), 
I adore you … I crave you though we never met in this life time … in this moment in time. I love you to Pluto (the moon seems too close) and back. I think about you daily even in the early hours of the morning while dusk is still in session. I miss you though I’ve never inhaled your fresh mountainy scent, heard your resonant voice, looked you in both of your eyes only to witness my soul being healed by yours or kissed your full lips (it’s your bottom lip nibble that seems to turn me on … damn). It’s the thought of you … the yearning for you. I want to inhale your happiness, mend your sadness, taste all of your glory … Mmm. 
I want to capture each of your tear drops in the palm of my hand creating a mosaic river of both joy and disappointment. I want to listen to you as you talk me through your day’s journey. I want to walk hand in hand with you (our fingers interlocked forming one “great ball of fire”). I want to travel around the globe with you … one city, one country, one continent at a time … even swim the seven seas with you. 

You are the light that shines when darkness lingers. You are truth as I am honesty. You are the voice when I become mute. You are the energy when I’m exhausted. You are the strength when I become weak. You are the faith when my beliefs are in question. 

You are the center of my prayers at night. You are my thoughts during those days of unrest. You are the man handcrafted by the finest craftsman whom is not of this earth. You were selected by the universe just for me … one woman, one heart, one love to share with one man, his heart, his love. 
I Love You My Healer, My Protector, My Friend, My Lover … My Forever. 
Your Present & Your Future, 
Your Displaced Rib 

WTF?!? Dating Sucks! 

Yeah, I know I said I wouldn’t use “juvenilistic” acronyms or short hand text. But, “f” it, it will be used only (can’t guarantee at this point) during this vent. What the f@&k (oops, sorry, slip of the tongue) is wrong with the world of dating? It doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Some men (and women, I might add) are only looking to hook up … “F” and go. It’s like you’re at a drive thru … you order a large penis (without the bun as you’re watching your carb intake) or a juicy fat vajayjay with a side of no emotions. What happened to dating? What happened to courting? What happened to learning, loving, and eventually gaining a life mate?

Metaphorically speaking, I’ve traveled through dungeons, caves, wild animal traps, and swung from tree to tree with Tarzan … Ha! Hell, even thought I was a part of a lost scene in Game of Thrones (Khaleesi’s aka “mother of dragons” half sister on her Father’s side). Anywho, back to my vent … I don’t even think the men I’ve encountered (on dating sites, dating apps, in real world scenarios, etc.) are from this planet … they were probably rejects from Mars. I honestly think some meteorite crashed on planet Earth and its kryptonite sucked the life out of (some) men (and women) leaving them with toddler brains. It’s so disheartening when a guy asks for nudes and/or sends you an unwarranted photo of his junk with lint balls. Wait, I must add a little more iodized salt to the womb …. I once had a guy tell me he wears lipstick and nail polish (see screenshot below). I can’t make this shit up even if I wanted to. This and a hell of a lot more usually occurs after an introductory text as phone calls are nonexistent; at least in today’s world of reckless dating. 

You know what, I’m going to sell all of my shit leaving nothing but a pair of spiked combat boots and several pair of (a female’s monthly favorites) granny panties (the ones with the holes and discoloration). This woman is heading to the nearest nunnery. 

Sigh … WTF! Dating Sucks! 

Xoxo, 

Karma Loves 

Equally Unbalanced 

I feel like the rope in a game of tug of war … strength and looks can be deceiving. My dating life and the pursuit of finding a mate are at war… equally unbalanced. My emotions are caught in a never ending storm … damaging high winds, terrestrial rain showers, hail the size of tennis balls, thunder that roars like a lion in distress, and lightning that’s expelled from the hands of Mother Nature on her menses. 

My dating struggles seem unbalanced … equally unyoked. Struggle is said to be the key that unlocks the deadbolt to irrefutable happiness. Struggle is said to be the escalating steps that lead you out of darkness. I’ve tried to light a candle in the midst of my struggle … in the pit of total darkness. But, darkness blew it out.  

Lord, are you forwarding all of my calls (prayers) to voicemail? Universe, are you teaming up with Ashton Kutcher? I’m just saying, it’s hard to believe that I’m not on an unaired episode of Punk’d. 

Damn it! This dating shit sucks! My dating life and my pursuit of finding a mate to my cringing soul  is equally unbalanced, equally unyoked, and equally f@&ked! 

Xoxo, 
Karma Loves 

A Letter to My Suicidal Self

Dear My Darkness,

I don’t even know where to start or even know where to begin … I just don’t want you to feel that it’s your end.

I’ve heard your cries, I’ve felt the tears run down your face as they seeped through the fabric of your existence. I’ve inhaled your anger, your pain, and your exhaustion. I’ve tasted every tear (poignant in nature as it pierced through my tongue) that fell on the palate … the plate of your frame. I heard every word you screamed (until the ringing in my ears was a constant echo) the other night  … eerie and sacrilegious … “I f@@king hate you!” “I don’t want to be you anymore!”

As you stood in front of that elongated mirror the other day, you didn’t recognize your beauty, your strength, your wisdom, your hope, your freedom … But, I did. You felt as if you had lost your femininity. You felt as if your womanhood was stripped until you were unidentifiable … Until your gender was unclassified. In your eyes you were lost … You escaped from the prison of utter disappointment, the prison of a failed marriage and disintegrated relationships, the prison of jaded religions, the prison of financial ruin, the prison of another’s disorientation. And, some days you felt like a prisoner (on death row) trapped in your own body. You felt you had no where to go … Had no one to turn to .. Even felt God tuned His back on you. I traveled though the darkness with you; Even as I tried to lead you into my guiding light.

I too crave the love you one day hope for … the love that you one day inhale and undoubtedly exhale … the love that will be shared with your soul man. You yearn for the love that’ll Illuminate your heart. The heart that has lost its spark … The heart that has lost its beat … The heart that is enslaved by anger, bitterness, resentment, jealousy, despair, and even deceit.

Yes, this world is a shit storm … Loose, hard, and vile shit flying in all directions. We will not lay dormant in a pool of foul fecal matter. We will not fear the fearful … We will not surrender to the hateful … We will not incarcerate ourselves until we “dry rot.” We will not be prisoners of our own war.

We made it 38.5 years together .. let’s continue this crossing of life together … This journey of resilience and discernment. I’ll hold your hand, I’ll walk with you … I’ll wade through the river of Jordan with you.

Life is a beautiful canvas … Colorful and  limpid. We must use the brush of life and continuously paint with strokes to the left and paint with strokes to the right … there will be as many ups as there are downs. We must seek the light of a better day before darkness casts its grueling spell.

I love you … You’re my inspiration … You’re  my protector as I am yours. You’re my soul sister … You’re my spirit animal. You are a survivor … You are me as I am you.

This is our new beginning my sister … You are the love of my life.

 

*If you know someone who has lost the map of life, please reach out to them, walk with them, talk to them (not at them), lend a helping hand. I hope to reach the masses  with my letter of truth. It’s evident that in many communities, certain life elements are frowned upon and/or not discussed. We all must realize suicide is a disease (depression is the culprit). We must find a cure. Please share this letter as it could be one’s ticket to freedom.

 

Xoxo,

Your Light

Dear God,Why Not Me?

I’m a little pissed at Him right now … Him being God. I am not afraid to admit it. I’ll probably be shoved into the pit of hell or shunned because of blasphemy. Do not throw your dusty bible at me or grab the bottle of holy water that’s been resting in your crotch. I do believe in a higher power … I do believe there’s a place above all with angels adorned in robes crafted from the finest fabrics. I do believe in miracles … I do believe in the golden gates. Like most, I’m always questioning His timing … His sense of humor.

Dear God, why not me? Why haven’t I received the answer to my prayers (more like cries for help)? You know, the prayers I’ve been uttering for the past five years, 2 months, and 23 days. Some say, it’s just not my time or others constantly remind me of the biblical adage, “He may not come when you want Him, but He’ll be right on time.”

I guess my thinking is spiritually out of sync or tainted because  I am constantly reminded of the “false” perception of happiness through social media (you know, the luxurious trips to Punta  Cana, the fabulous excursions on a yacht, or the kissie face selfies near the Eiffel Tower). I will admit, I envy those who are given the freedom to love without regret or the freedom to connect with their love mate … their second heartbeat. It’s a complicated task not to live your life through the reflection of someone else. A drift of depression tends to set in when I compare my current dating stance to women (or men) who “own” their extremely active social lives outside of their 9-5 … Just call me Basic Ass Becky. 😭

Dear God, why not me? I prayed not for all the riches of the world (but, if you’re issuing passes, I’m down) or to be blessed with (a single) David Beckham in H&M briefs or a bare chested Morris Chestnut wrapped in a damp (just stepped out the shower) Egyptian towel  (but, if you’re molding one, hook a sista up).  Ok, Ok, back to reality. I want the love without internal bruising, the tears of pain from infidelity, or the chipped heart from loving him more than I love myself. I want the love that hoards constant laughter; love that emits sparks only him and I will have the pleasure of  experiencing; love that speaks many languages; love that withstands war between two conflicting souls; etc. etc.

Dear God, Why not me? Lord, I will be forced to wear the armor of a woman in need during her sweet hour of prayer … a padded helmet with the satin black girl bonnet (BGB) underneath, neck brace, elbow pads, boxing gloves (I mean, I’m just saying, it’s going down in the prayer DM), and knee pads. Le Sigh … 

This continuous journey of mine will not be diverted. Love will prevail. 

 

XOXO

Karma Loves ❤️💋

Fake or Born With It … It’s Your Choice

In today’s shallow society, if you don’t have a BIG “split pea” aka bootay or a BIG set of non-nursing “cha-cha’s,” you are BASIC (please refer to urban dictionary to gain a better  understanding of the term … Click Here).

Young (and many matured) women are going under the knife to rid themselves of “the other night’s rejection.” As we all know, when gravity takes over, there’s absolutely no exercise (and honey, most of us have tried them all) that can make saggy breasts perky or a natural flat ass round, plump, and slapable without assistance from Dr. “Waste (Waist, Ass and Titties) No Time.” I’m just keeping it real boo boo. And, you know the transformation is not complete without a full set of extensions or clip-ins (from the gods of human hair with no synthetic fillers “bih”).

It’s like you can walk into your favorite plastic surgeon’s office looking like Olive Oyl (you know, Popeye’s girlfriend)  and come out the same day (just hours later) with inflated lips and breasts like Coco (Hot Tea’s, oh wait, Ice Tea’s wife), a cinched waist like Kim Kardashian (the Kim during Ray J and the infamous sex tape) and an ass like Serena Williams. Shhhyt … where the hell do I sign up?

And, uh, just make sure you go to a board certified plastic surgeon with years of experience (more like half a lifetime) … I would hate for that new arse to deflate while your boo is uh, doing his “doggie due diligence.” (inserts surprise emoji). Haha!

Just saying …

If you don’t have a weak stomach, check out the following Snapchats of plastic surgeons performing Brazilian butt lifts, breast augmentations, liposuction, etc.  … it’s definitely interesting to watch. And, if you’re not familiar with Snapchat Click Here and get your life.

Dr. Miami

Snapchat: therealdrmiami

Dr. Schulman

Snapchat: nycplasticsurg

Either way that new Nabisco Cinnamon Bun Oreo Cookie Crumbles (damn, damn, damn … why did I choose this month to go on that diet?!?), Fake, Faux or Born With It… It’s Your Mofo choice. Do You While Being the Best You!  

By the way, if you’re bored follow me on snapchat: karmaluvs77 (pure randomness and epicness). 

XoXo,

Karma Loves

“F” You Valentine’s Day 

A BIG “F” You to Valentines’s Day!! Slow neck roll with a quick sucking of the teeth. And no, I’m not saying that because I’m single as a Salt and Vinegar Pringle (the one chip that’s just laying at the bottom of the canister) or the end piece of a loaf of bread (you know the overly crusted slice that no one touches at the very end of the bag … yeah that one). I say this because we (yes, I’m including myself in the mix) tend to forget the true meaning of love in its rawest form or often confuse it with lust (like those intense and overly sexualized thoughts of slobbing on the “knob” of the hottest/sexiest celebrity-for me it’s “before he was married and had a daughter” Channing Tatum … Sorry, not sorry). 

Love is a verb … It’s a noun … It’s a motive … It’s a form of action that many don’t act upon. I’ve always been infatuated with fairy tales or fables. You know, when boy meets girl (like Cory and Topanga) they fall deep in love, get married on Elba island in Italy (small and quaint ceremony) and live happily ever after until death or until another man/woman do them part.

 

Love is unmeasured … It’s pure … It’s original … It’s colorless … It’s undeniable. Love is within us .. It exudes from the core of the heart and speaks languages of many to the soul.

Here goes another BIG “F” You to Valentines’s Day … Keep your cuddly bears, your chocolate covered strawberries, your roses, your corny ass greeting cards, and your annoying Cupid … wait, is he single though? I want LOVE (in the raw) without the extra (materialism is overrated).

And yes, I’m being “salty.” Whatever the hell that means.

Xoxo,

Karma Loves ❤️