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. 



Karma Loves ❤️💋

Never Lose Yourself

I’ve had my share of relationships, more like situations where I was giving a hell of a lot more than I was receiving. I was searching for love in all the wrong places … so cliché, but it fits the conundrum. You can’t make another person love you if you’re not a priority. I was too strung out on fairy tales … more like stoned off of relationship fallacies. I wanted a guy to fall in love with me … recognize my needs, fulfill my wants and desires, treat me like a natural-born princess, profess his love for me to the world, protect me, and provide a safe haven for my (once dilapidated) heart .

I used to buy gifts for these douchebags (cuddly teddy bears, flowers, clothes, watches, shoes, etc.), cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner (full course meals) for them, travel miles (before gas reached an all time high) just to spend quality time with them (South Carolina to the District of Columbia … South Carolina to Georgia … South Carolina to North Carolina … South Carolina to Florida … South Carolina to Some Other Unknown Far Away Small Town in the Carolinas), send messages of adoration, etc. My mind tried to warn me, but my heart wasn’t giving up on the fight between my love and his lust.

I recall praying and asking the Lord for His approval … I wanted Him to make the “douche” love me… make him/them adore me … want me. And when I assumed He didn’t hear my plea (my cry), I purchased a few self-help books (witchcraft and black magic) on casting spells. No judgement please! I wanted to create a love potion (Love Potion #9 on High-octane). I wanted to create a spell utilizing the whole Hocus Pocus … Abracadabra bull shit. And yes, I was serious. It was like I wanted to turn the toad into a prince.

Thank God I’ve matured and have gained ample wisdom to NOT do that craziness shit ever again in this lifetime or any other time in the present or future … even after reincarnation when I come back as a douche. Ha! Ha! Revenge is such sweet sorrow. Ok, Ok … I’m only kidding.

Looking back … I didn’t allow the man to be the man. I was doing enough for the both of us. I felt as if I was a hermaphrodite during explicit encounters … hell, I was basically f-bomb(ing) myself. I lost a part of me … all of me. I gave what little love I had for myself to someone who cared much less. My reflection had more of a masculine form … my femininity was robbed. I was a part of his/their existence, while my own was confined (When you become them and they were never a part of you). I lost a portion of me … Damn near all of me.

There’s something about that Amazing Grace … How sweet the sound … that saved a wretch like me .. I once was lost, but now I’ve been found … Was blind, but now I see.

Never lose yourself or allow another being to rob you of your existence. Never relinquish your instinctive power … Live for you and not through the reflection of another.