Okay so it's been a little while since I have written a story. This is my passion, yet I can't find the motivation to produce the words needed to complete something that I am proud of. Needless to say, I still said eff it and did what I could. Hope y'all enjoy. 


Staring at the ceiling. Another night. Same dream. I can't seem to get her out of my head, no matter how much I try. Hell, who I am fooling. I haven't tried to get her out. Matter-of-fact, I welcome her in. Invite her. Something about the way she walks, the way she rocks her locs. Her smile, her look. Damn she got me blown. Let me get out of this bed because daydreaming on something I can't have is pointless. 

"Beep beep" 

*checks text*

Just when I tried to get my mind focused on something else, she texts me. It's a simple "hey, how are you", but it does more than she intended. I hit her back and hop in the shower, getting my day started because it's going to be a long one. Water running all over my body, caressing me, kissing my skin with wet lips. As I lean my head back, I feel her lips on my neck. Her hands on my chest, her nipples against my back. Her hand slowly goes lower, my blood racing south along with it. They reach their destination at the same time, both running the length of my manhood. She slowly strokes me, her red skin against my chocolate temple. The feeling is astounding, one of utter bliss. I think to myself, "damn this feels....cold?" The once steaming water has now grown cold, my thoughts causing me to lose track of time. Hell, a cold shower is probably what I need right about now anyways. I finish my shower and dry off, my homie still standing at attention as if to say "you thought that was going to calm me down". Dismissing him, I get dressed and head out. First stop: the mall. Tonight there's a party uptown for one of my friends so I'm trying to find just a little something to wear. After about an hour and a half, I find an outfit. Next stop is the barbershop. I want to get a haircut but instead I opt for a shape-up, trying to get my hair to grow out in hopes that I can get her to play in it one day. I figure since I'm out, I should go ahead and wash my car since it's already feeling nice outside. 

"Beep beep"

She texts me again, telling me that she doesn't know if she's going to make it out tonight because she's upset at something. I don't pry into her life, knowing that she knows I always have a shoulder for her. So instead I inform her that maybe getting out for a few would help alleviate the stress. She texts back that she might and she will let me know a little later. I text back ok, although in my mind I'm hoping that she will make it out. True it's slightly selfish of me, but I need her there because she helps alleviate my stress. Her presence keeps my spirits on high. 

I contact one of my co-workers who has inside connects at hotels and I end up getting a room uptown. I figure that tonight may be a little crazy and I don't want to run the risk of drinking and driving because the police have been cracking down on it. Plus the room was cheap. I head back to the spot to gather up everything that I will need and shoot to the room. On my way I get a bottle of Rose' and a bottle of Patron. Once inside I fix me a drink and relax. The Chicago Bulls are playing the Miami Heat and my homie Derrick Rose is back. The Bulls are putting a clinic on the Heat, just how I like it. After three shots of Patron, the running around of today has started to take a toll on me. I still have five hours left before I need to get ready so I take a nap. 

She walks into the room, her sexy legs showcased because of the dress she has on. They guide her to the side of the bed and I am enamored by the perfection that is beside me. She touches the side of my face, my head instinctively leaning in to accept her touch. My hand reaches for her leg, the softness and smoothness slightly catching me off guard. But then again, what else should I have expected from this angel. She stands up, slowly unzipping the back of her dress. She turns around, preparing to let the material drop to the floor. It's hard to describe how mesmerized I am. The dress falls past her shoulder, down her back, to her waist. I sit up a little, anticipating the next view that will be before me....

*Beep beep beep beep beep*

My alarm goes off. I roll over and shut it off, a feeling of disappoint slowly settling in. Damn it happened again. I have a few missed texts and a couple of missed calls. I respond back to everyone, seeing her text saying that she decided to go out and I better be there. Time to get up and get ready. I iron my clothes, take another shower, and fix me one more drink before heading out.

The party is banging. Everyone is having a good time, no cares in the world. She showed up looking like the epitome of perfection. We laugh, we joke, both of us needing each other to take our minds off of life's obstacles. The night is winding down and a lot of the party-goers are headed out. The DJ has commenced to play slow jams, the cue that the party was coming to an end. AS he states that this is the last lone, he plays "Bad" by Wale ft. Tiara. The beat drops, sounds of desire oozing out of the speakers. As if the melody was her puppet master, her body begins to sway and swerve, the dance of seduction being displayed prominently. She steps in front of me, her backside in tune with my front. As if two cobras doing a deadly dance, our bodies intertwine, oblivious to the outside world. The song ends along with our mating ritual. The heat between us is enough to fry eggs. Finally we walk out with the rest of the stragglers. We say our goodbyes and I start walking to my hotel. Seeing that I was on foot, she calls out to me to see if I needed a ride. I accept, if for nothing else than to spend just another moment with her. She asks me to drive since I know where the hotel is at. I oblige, both of us feeling the effects of the alcohol. I park at the hotel and asks if she is okay to drive home. She states that she was supposed to stay with her homegirl tonight but her homegirl is not answering the phone so can she chill for a few while she continue to call. We head upstairs, laughing at the different highlights of the night. Upon entering the room I make myself comfortable as she calls her friend again. This time the phone has gone directly to voicemail. Knowing that her homegirl has probably fallen asleep she puts the phone down and makes herself comfortable as well. We talk a little about the things going on with us. I get up to fix me a drink now that I don't have to be out in public anymore. She asks for one as well. I reach for the Rose' but she asks for a shot of Patron as well. We take our drinks and down them, the liquid going down as if we were drinking water, a sign of one too many drinks being consumed. After watching the highlights on ESPN and seeing that my Bulls defeated the Heat, I wash up and put on my nightwear. She asks me for a t-shirt to put on. I had purchased two tees at the mall earlier, but the longer one I currently had on. I offered up the second one, which was smaller on me but ran mid-thigh to her. As she came out of the bathroom from washing up and changing, I couldn't help but briefly stare. She makes anything look good. She enters the bed on the other side of the bed, the king size bed putting a lot of space between us. I flip through the channels looking for something on tv. As usual, nothing good is on until I reach HBO. "Love Jones" has been on about 20 minutes, the scene where Larenz Tate is performing his "Brother to the Night(A Blues for Nina)" poem. This scene is always powerful to me, and judging by how intrigued she is, she feels the same way. Somehow, we have both made our way to the middle of the bed. She stretches out her leg a little, slightly brushing against my leg. Although the touch is minimal, the electricity flowing through is enough to power a city block. We watch a few more minutes of the movie before she turns her back to me, calling it a night. Cutting off the tv and putting on my nightly playlist to help me sleep, I follow suit, the last shot we took finally taking it's toll on me. As if second nature I turn to face her. Instinctively she slides back into me, causing my arm to reach around her and hold her. On cue, the previous song goes off and "Bad" by Wale comes on. As the first few rifts begin, she starts slowly grinding her body on mine. The feeling is causing my vessel to stretch. She feels it and continues moving on him. I start to grind back, my hands caressing every inch of her body. I massage her back and she starts to moan. Turning her onto her stomach, I sit atop of her. I continue my massaging of her back. As I do, the bottom of the t-shirt keeps riding up, her pretty red cheeks peeking out. More massaging causes more of the shirt to inch up until her pretty, nude ass is completely exposed, the absence of underwear making that possible. I slide my hands under her shirt to touch her back and slowly work my way down. As I massage her ass, she moans deeper and raises her hips to meet my hands. I lean forward and place kisses on her back, my hands having been replaced with my mouth. Wet kisses all over, enjoying the feel of her skin. I find my way to her round mound of brown, parting her legs while I continue kissing. Stretching my tongue out as far as it can go when I reach the space between her legs, I taste the sweetest treat ever made. She throws her body back onto my face, my tongue diving deep into her warmth, the tip tickling her g-spot. She raises up higher to give me access into her cave. I flip her over to wrap my lips around her clit. Flicking my tongue across it steadily, firmly. She places on hand on my head and pushes me in deeper, and I eagerly obey. Her right leg starts to shake, her moans start to become inaudible. She grabs my head and squeezes it as her body rids her of a beautiful orgasm. Her body is still trembling as I climb on top of her to suck her perfect nipples. She wraps one hand around my head, the other slides down to grab my manhood. He's completely at attention as she pulls him out and stroke him. The head touches her southern lips, the moisture comparable to the amount he feels in the shower. She rolls the head up and down the length of her sweetness. We are now both moaning, me sucking on her and grinding. She pulls me forward as she stops the head at her entrance. I slip into her wetness, her sugary walls grabbing ahold of me and guiding me in as if there was a particular spot that I needed to reach. Judging from the way she responded, I guess I have reached it. We slowly roll together like a ship on the ocean. Even my most detailed dream couldn't compare to this feeling that I am experiencing. Time passes us by as we are in our own world, making our own rules. Her leg begins to shake again, the start of something great happening. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in deeper. Unprepared for the feelings that have now surrounded me, I feel my own body starting to betray me. My eyes close. Her arms tighten. My thrusts deepen. Her moans increase. My breathing changes. Her breathing changes. I'm coming I say. I'm coming she says. Oh shit we say. Fireworks pop off. The bell sounds. Whistles blow. We have reached the finish line at the same time, both of us feeling like winners. We get up and wash. She checks her phone, her homegirl called her back to say that had fell asleep but she hid a key for her. Not wanting to have to wake up early and drive across time, she opts to leave now. I ask if she's sure, and if she's safe to drive. She says the only intoxication she feels right now is a result of what just happened. I laugh, she laugh. We hug. Electricity still flowing through us but that's for another time.

Fumbled Your Heart(Game time)

I fumbled your heart, guess my grip wasn't strong/see we just had a few penalties, now it was 3rd & long/an offside here, false start there, not to mention the delay/so now in order to score I had to draw up my best play/but my head wasn't in the game and I called a quarterback draw/the expression on her face said it all, "oh hell nah"/I was hit hard from the blind side, and that's when it happened/a fumble, the other team recovered, so I threw out my challenge/but they came back and said the ruling on the field stands/now I'm walking back to the sideline with my head in my hands/Coach God is looking at me, asking why did I audible/He said "I gave you the right play, all you had to do was follow through"/I said "Father forgive me", He said "son, you know I will/but we gotta get back possession of the heart, so listen, here's the deal/I want u to go out on defense and give it all you got/don't let them get anything, force a 3 & out"/so I went out there and fought hard, forcing them to punt/3 minutes left, I got possession of the heart and I'm on my 21/Coach God said "alright now listen up, I'ma give you 3 plays/and if you run them like I say you're leaving with a victory today"/so the first 2 plays get me to the fifty, now I'm thinking to myself/no timeouts, 30 seconds left, I hope this next play helps/I'm losing my mind, I look to the sideline, man this feeling's scary/God senses my doubt and then He shouts out "my child throw the Hail Mary"/this time I don't question it, I do exactly as He say now/just as the clock expires, the whistle blows, TOUCHDOWN!/ once again Team True love wins, time for a celebration/still undefeated, a win very much needed as we knock off Team Temptation/now we preparing for the next test, a hard one for True Love Nation/cause they undefeated too, but we have to conquer Team Communication/and they've been known to disrupt even the strongest relationship/but with Coach God leading us, I believe we going to the championship

Moral of the story: sometimes we  don't make the best decisions in relationships. And sometimes this causes a temporary suffering. But if you keep God in your life and put forth the effort, you can overcome all obstacles. "3-corded rope, not easily broken"

DreamChaser

Oh man! This is the very first erotic piece that I wrote. I was on my way to work, riding the Metro in D.C. Parental Discretion is advised!!

I walk into the room...the lights are off, candles are burning and Slow Jamz I & II are in the cd changer on repeat. Strawberries are on the table with whip creme and champagne accompanying them. Warm, scented massage oil is on the nightstand. Everything is perfect. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. I open it and you walk in wearing a 3/4 length coat. I look into your face, such unrivaled beauty. Eyes twinkling like crystals left out in the sun; body smelling like a field of roses bottled up into such a perfect frame. You take your coat off, revealing a red dress that hugs your body just right. I envision wrapping my arms around you the same way. As if reading my mind you step to me and embrace me, and I hold on to you as if you are life itself. I lead you to the couch, your red heels carrying you across the carpet as if you are gliding. We sit, we chat, we drink. Can't explain the feeling that has taken residence inside of me, but it seems to control my body. I look into your eyes and it's as if this feeling has a twin that lives in you. I ask you would you like more to drink. You answer yes, sounding like the most harmonious songbird that was ever created. As I reach for the wine my hand brushes your knee, sending slight sparks of electricity onto the floor. We look at each other, knowing what it was but living in denial. As we talk more I keep thinking about what just happened and have to ask myself whether or not it was a fluke. So I deliberately place my hand on your knee, sending hot desires burning through our bodies. You look at me with a yearning so strong, that I feel myself gravitating towards you. My lips reach your neck. You let out a soft moan, fueling my longing to devour you. I kiss your shoulder, sliding the straps of your dress down. As they reach your lap, I gaze at your perfect breasts, my mouth watering instantaneously. I make my way down to them, slowly, steady....kissing you in places that evoke moans from you. I take one breast in my hand, texture so soft, slowly allowing my tongue to flick across your nipples, sending ecstasy through your body. As I slide my hands across your thighs, the energy makes both of us close our eyes for a brief second. I stand you up, letting your dress fall to the floor. Takes a while for me to get myself together, your body taking the breath out of me. I lead you to the bed...actually I let you walk in front as I become mesmerized by your lovely humps and the unparalleled view that I have. I lay you down on your stomach, letting you become relaxed as I pick up the oil. Pouring it into my hands, letting it warm up. Rubbing, massaging, touching...satisfaction for the both of us. Back, legs, butt, feet...I caress your body, leaving nothing untouched. Finally I slide your thong off, watching your juice slowly drip down. I roll you over, admiring your perfection. My lips reach your thighs, sucking, nibbling. As I go from thigh to thigh, my tongue to lightly tickles your clit. Then I place my tongue on your pussy lips, slowly licking up, stopping right before my tongue touches your clit, teasing you, tasting you. Instead of going further up, I slide it back down, continuing to do this as more juice is being produced by your sugary walls. Finally I take your clit into my mouth, sucking on it, licking on it. You moan, grab onto my head as I feast on your nectar. I don't know which one is sweeter: you or the strawberries. I'm thinking you, so I grab a strawberry and slide it across your pussy to see if my guess is correct. You moan, you groan, letting me know how you feel. As I touch you and taste you, your body begins to tremble. You grab my head and push it into you more, telling me not to stop. As you cum I continue licking your clit. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your body is weak. But I'm not finished. You can't move, but you enjoy the feeling. I keep it steady, firm, soft, all the things you enjoy. Before you have time to get yourself together, another orgasm creeps along your body. I watch as it travels south: starting with your eyes rolling in the back of your head, your lips moaning, your nipples standing erect, your stomach moving in and out faster and faster, your thighs shaking, until your pussy juice flows out one more time, tasting like project Kool-aid....too sweet, but yet can't stop drinking it. As you lay there I can hear your pussy ringing, as if I won the top prize. Its getting louder and louder, until I realize that it's my alarm clock. I'm dazed, confused, thinking to myself "wow, what a dream". Then I look down at my pillow; it's wet and smells like strawberries......

"Diary of a Cheating Woman/Man"

It's a Friday night, I had a long day at work all I want to do is go home and relax. I get me something to drink and I think of renting a movie. I've seen most of the new releases that have went to dvd, so just as I am deciding to bypass the movie decision I remember a title that was suggested that I watch: Diary of a Cheating Woman. Yep, finally some women have come out and admitted to their indiscretions. But you know that regardless of how many times you watch it, you will never figure out why women cheat. There are a million reasons for it, so at this point it's something that we have to accept in life. But by no means is this a woman-bashing post because if you have read any of my previous posts, you will see that the double standard is an act that doesn't quite sit well with me. So as you read this post don't take it the wrong way. I'm just addressing a movie that was put out for the world to see. So fasten your seat belts because this may be a bumpy ride.

The major excuses that you hear from women in regards to them cheating is because they were cheated on or they aren't getting something that they need at home. Either way that's bullshit. Let's start with the being cheated on aspect. If he cheated on you, then you need to do one of two things: either forgive him and work on getting past that, or leave him. Simple. If you don't want to leave because of something invested, but yet you don't trust him, then you need to make a decision on what you want because trying to get some "get-back" does nothing but complicate things. I understand that trust is not easily earned, and even harder to sustain once something of this magnitude has happened. But that's when you have to decide if his cheating is a deal-breaker. If so, walk away. I know that's easier said than done, but it's better now because you will not fully trust again if it's not something you can put past you. If walking away is not what you want, take some time to get your mind together, take control, and see what steps need to be taken to help the relationship get back on track. But only if it's what you BOTH want. If he's a real man, he will see how much it hurt you and will do whatever it takes to win your love and trust back. It should also be an isolated incident as well. If it becomes a regular occurrence, then you both need to grow up! Lol. But at no point should you go out and have sex with someone just because your dude cheated on you. We adults, not children. The Golden Rule isn't something that should be manipulated in this situation.

The other issue that was used the most was that the man isn't giving you something at home. Whether it's financially, emotionally, mentally, physically, whatever. If that's the case, then what you need to do is sit down with him and let him know what is not being fulfilled in your life. Give him the opportunity to correct it because men are simple creatures. Mind readers we are not. Nor are we well versed in body language. So what that means is you have to actually tell him some things, even if it may seem obvious to you. A man's mind is almost full of sports, money, sex, and food. And that may seem like a few things compared to the inner workings of a woman's mind, but if you could open his head and see his brain you would see these 4 things compose the most of his thoughts. So it's not that he doesn't care about your needs. Sometimes he just doesn't know them. And stop telling him it's nothing, then expect him to perform some CSI investigative type work to find out what's wrong. When you ask a man what's wrong and he says nothing, it's probably one of two things: it's nothing that we feel needs to be discussed just yet because we haven't figured the bullshit out ourselves yet, or it's actually nothing. By the way, the latter part is the case 88% of the time. So back to the cheating reason. You say you aren't getting these things at home. So what do you do? You go out and find a dude who makes up for what you are not getting at home. You don't leave your man because he's a good man, you see the potential he has to be a great man, and you will be damned if you let him leave and he becomes that man with the next chick! So you keep him around and just enjoy the company of this side dude. Now you are getting everything you wanted, just not from the same place. And you actually try to justify that this is cool by saying you wouldn't be out here with Tony if things weren't lacking at home. Are you really listening to yourself? Let's look at things a different way: say your man was coming to you and wanting sex but you wasn't necessarily feeling it every time so you start denying him. He goes out and finds sex elsewhere. It's just sex because dudes not really out here cheating for emotional or mental reasons. He gives you his heart because just like you see in him, he sees the potential for you as well. Do you accept his reason for cheating? No you don't. That's a double standard. At the end of the day, communication is needed. And this goes for both genders. Both should be willing to not only speak on what is wrong, but also to accept what is being told to them without complaining. I'm not a dude that asks for much. I accept a lot in life and I understand that we are different. But if I speak on something, it's because it's something important to me. And if I speak and it doesn't feel like the person is listening or trying, then we have a problem. Which could result in some things not being said, in turn causing a situation to blow up that could have been handled earlier. I say that to say talking AND listening/receiving are very important to a healthy relationship as well as with trying to prevent cheating. And as always if the person isn't willing to make changes then you need to make that decision on fight or flight. Fight for what you want, or take flight and exit stage left.

A couple of things that were being said throughout the movie were funny, some were true. One in particular was one of the guys saying that men "cheat down". This means that who he's cheating with is not on the same level as his woman, be it physical, financially, intelligence, sexiness, etc. And it's crazy but that's true. A lot of women can't understand this because they look at the woman he cheated with and start comparing themselves to her. "My ass bigger than hers". "I'm way prettier than her". "She works at McDonalds". They want to know why, if he was going to cheat, he didn't go for the chick in his office that she would have went for if she went that way. The reason is something similar to what Steve Harvey said in "Think Like A Man" (not too fond of the movie but that's another post!). He said a man needs to feel like a man. He needs to feel he has some control. And when he doesn't, well he finds someone that will make him feel like a man. While you are bashing him or trying to run things in the relationship and not really relinquishing any control, Keisha down at the local chicken joint he goes into is always telling him how smart he is, how handsome he his, how neat he dresses. She's stroking his ego. I don't think that really hit home. SHE'S STROKING HIS EGO! This simple act can produce some of the most successful relationships, all because you made him feel like a real man. Some women really know how to utilize this technique. They are the ones celebrating their 25th, 30th, and 50th anniversaries. This goes for compliments as well as physical activities. If he's doing something and it feels good, add a little extra moan to it! Or hit him with a "damn". Lol. My girl makes me feel like my kisses are the shit. Like the sex is the bomb. Is that true? It may or may not be, but she strokes my ego and makes me BELIEVE that it's true! And this goes a long way with preventing a man from stepping out. Now granted, if he's sitting around not working, smoking weed, and chasing Keisha's then that's a different thing and you are back to the fight or flight decision.

Didn't think I was going to write this much, but my fingers started making love to the keyboard and I just started stroking. Keystrokes, that is. Cheating helps no one, and hurts everyone. Sure it feels good temporarily, but you take the risk of losing out on one of the best things that could have happened to you. And Karma is real. I understand that people say if it's meant to be, it will happen. But that doesn't mean you are not supposed to put action into it. James 2:17 says "Faith without works is dead". And I used to tell people the "meant to be" cliche simply because I didn't want to deal with them seriously(I apologize if there's anybody reading this and I told you that). Because the truth is, you could be fated to have a certain job. But if you never put in the application, you expect them to just call you out of the blue? The Lord works in mysterious ways, but you don't know much about Him if you think it works like that. Anyways, so much more could be said about this but I'm sure I've covered things in past cheating posts that I've written. And who knows, maybe I'll come with a part two. Or even crazier, a Diary of a Cheating Man with some actual scenarios from people. Stay tuned...

Lemme Reintroduce Myself/Crazy

*Peeps my head in, looks around. Takes one step into the room, two steps. Clears my throat:*

Ummm, hello everybody. I know some of you new ones may be asking who the hell I am. And some of you regulars might be asking where the hell I've been, and how I could just walk away from you when you needed your fix. Or hell, you may have found another supplier and I'm just a faded memory. Nonetheless, I'm back on the block. Can I say I'm jumping back into the game head first? Not yet, but I'm trying to come around and let you know I still got that heat rock so don't forget about me just yet. 

This next post is something that I wrote a couple of years ago(yep, I put up old stuff too. Deal with it! lol). It was a funny piece to me, but it's also some real sh*t and I decided to share it with some of my folks. The name of it is simply "Crazy". So hopefully you will be able to see through your anger at me, and enjoy what I have put out here for you. Oh and by the way, my real name is Will Smith. Thank you.

Lonely nights laying in bed, should be wrapped in between your legs, but instead

Crazy thoughts roaming my head

What you doing? Where you going? Who you wit'?

Are you thinking of me? Is he touching you? I can't take this shit.

Got me feeling sick, another night left feeling restless

Heart is burning, stomach is turning, feeling breathless, I'm helpless

Why do I keep finding that love that's reckless?

The kind that is filled with traffic jams and delays

People who don't give a damn; roads with potholes and shut down freeways

"I love you" is what we say, but if that was the case

Then why is this relationship a 3-way

You thinking "me & him" plus "me & Jay"

I'm thinking "bitch I'll kill you...it don't work that way!"

But on some real shit, who you being real with?

Is it that dude over there, or this dude Will Smith

I was in the Pursuit of Happyness, then came the madness

Then the pain and the rain, now comes the sadness

Why can't we have this if we work hard at it

Strung off your love  like a fucking drug addict

Damn you was my habit, now I'm going thru withdrawals

Lying to me, saying you don't have any missed calls

Now I'm pissed off but it's cool, I get the hint

Like the fucking cliche goes, it'll be if it was meant

Angel

I was at work the other day, not working, when I decided to write something. Enjoy.

I take a look into her eyes. And I feel trapped. The more I try to shake the feeling, the deeper I become entangled in her web. As an unsuspecting fly, knowing he's gotten too close but it's too late to flee. Yet knowing that this impending pain would be the best pleasure he has ever experienced. She does things to me that's borderline scary. Why? Because to lose all control of myself when she's around isn't healthy, it just isn't right. And no matter how helpless I feel, I don't think I would change one thing about it. Nope. I would ride to hell and slap the shit out of the devil if he so much as brought one bad day her way. If I died I would go to the pearly gates and right before they fitted me with my wings I would ask God to send me back because, quite frankly, she's my heaven. They say that angels exist among us, but we can't spot them. However, she has given away her true identity. She allowed God to send her here a little too perfect and then thought I wouldn't be able to see through the trick they were trying to sell to me. But by no means am I complaining. Instead I am thanking God that He has deemed lil ol' me worthy of one of His angels' companionship.

Untitled

Where's the love? Where's the trust?

You were so focused on you while I was focused on us

Damn I just wanna cuss, I hate this feeling

Anything you needed, I was willing, I was ready, I was prepared

But I guess that wasn't enough for you because you wanted to be shared

Wanted your cake and eat it too

So who the fuck is this new dude that's getting next to you?

Yeah it hurt, but I refuse to let it get me down

Refuse to be the jackass that's the talk of the town.

Nah, I'm moving on and pressing forward

Positive actions yields positive results.

And I'm positive that I'll be okay,

Should've seen that you wasn't ready from that first day.

But some things I overlooked, blinded myself

So I guess technically the blame can't be put on anyone else

I made this mess, this is my bed to sleep in

Guess I went off the deep end, now I'm sitting here listening to The Weeknd.

"You're the same ol' song".

I was a little bored so I wanted to write, but I had writers' block. So I wrote the first thing that came to mind, which was influenced partly by the music I was listening to, and partly by the movie Hitch since it was on the tv at that time. I haven't written any poems in awhile, and I decided to try my hand at it. Truthfully, it's not one of my strong suits. But oh well. Pobody's Nerfect! 

Look What You've Done.....

It's been a minute since I've been up here. Fortunately I've been busy with work. Unfortunately, I've had a lot of emotions bottled up inside because I haven't been able to access my outlet. But I'm here now. And I'm ready to get back to what I love. This shit is my therapy, my friend, my shoulder. I will try not to neglect it for this long again.

But anyways, where to start. Oh yeah, probably with that conversation that I just had via text. I got my drink to my right so we will see how this goes. I got this Drake's "Take Care" album going in the background, although I'm thinking of switching to The Weeknd to give me inspiration. Okay, I'm rambling. Damn you alcohol! Back to the convo. So she told me she thinks I'm "almost in love". She laughs but I think she really thinks this. And honestly, I wouldn't mind it. But truth is I'm a fucked up individual. I know that's not the best thing to say about one's self, but I'm an honest individual too. My feelings stay encased in a concrete safe because I don't want to be hurt. I've seen my homies go through it and it's not a feeling that I am ready to embrace. Because of this, I won't allow my feelings to become 100% involved until I'm sure the woman's feelings are all in. I mean typically women are all in first because women are more emotional, more affectionate. So when I see that I readily give in. But if that isn't showcased, then I live my life according to De Niro from the movie "Heat": never get attached to something that you can't walk away from in 30 seconds if you feel the heat. Granted, what he was talking about had nothing to do with this here, but in a way it applies to how I view feelings. Like I stated before, I'm somewhat of a fucked up individual. It's not something I'm proud of. I really wish I could let go and just give in sometimes, but on the flip side, after all I've seen in life I'm glad I'm not one of those dudes. I mean women can be ruthless sometimes! Lol. I think I've missed out on some good people because of my way of thinking. I just hope God hasn't given up on me yet. I mean who knows, maybe she's the one. Maybe He has deemed me worthy of having one of His angels as my own. I just hope I don't mess things up before I get the chance to see what's in store for me. And I hope that she realizes what she has in me....

Okay, I'm done. I know it's short but oh well. This was just something I wanted to get off my chest, talk about to y'all. Maybe one day I'll be able to express myself differently.

Niggas In Paris Our Vocabulary

I don't really know where to start. I've read the alleged tweet from Gwyneth Paltrow that said "niggas in paris onstage for real", and the backlash that she has received from the black community. I say alleged only because The Dream claims that now it was him who sent the tweet from her phone, but we all know that was a cover up for a friend/associate. But the thing that probably sits on my mind more than Gwen sending that tweet is how "we" become so offended when we hear this word, how we feel as if the speaker has just slapped our mother and then spit in her face. I will say that I am guilty for using the word nigga. And for the record, nigga and nigger aren't really different. Sometimes I do try to justify it at times by saying that a "nigger" is an ignorant person and this can go for anyone, regardless of race, whereas a "nigga" is a term of endearment(yeah, I don't even believe the bullshit myself).

Let me start with this word in general. I hear this word being spoken probably hundreds of times everyday from my own people. But we get upset when we hear someone else say it? A word that we have now made mainstream and acceptable, but we supposedly are so hurt by it. We out here ready to whoop a "niggas" ass over pussy or money, ready to pop a "nigga" for being disrespected, but we expect another race to respect us enough not to say the word. NIGGA PLEASE!! The Dream made some very interesting statements in Ms. Paltrow's defense. One, we give the word too much power over us. It's a word. Like he said, racism is in actions, not words. True, words are very powerful, but only as powerful as you allow them to be. Like the old adage goes, "sticks and stones may break my bones.....". We can't stop anybody from speaking their mind. So stop trying. Another point being made was how niggas become the most righteous after they are called a nigga. So 30 minutes ago you was sitting around selling crack to your people, ready to shoot at your people, breaking into your people's house, but now that this white man has called you a nigga, you are ready to become the face of your people and defend them. NIGGA PLEASE!! If your homeboy calls you a nigga, treat him the same way that you would treat a white person. Now I understand the significance of the word. Definitely not downplaying that because I know what our people have been through. Key word is THROUGH. We have moved on from it, and with that being said, we should be moving on from the word too. Let's not forget it, but leave it in the Smithsonian Museum with all of the other slavery items. I read a comment where a young lady was saying "when you can call another race a derogatory term and get away with it, then that's when you can call me a nigga". But you don't hear Jews calling each other Kikes, you don't hear Mexicans calling each other Wetbacks. We going around calling each other words that we don't want others to call us. Niggas has never, nor will it ever, be owned by black people. And if you think you deserve to say it because of what your ancestors endured, then NIGGA PLEASE!!

Now for Ms. Paltrow, she states that she didn't know it would cause such an uproar. I don't believe she thought she could tweet it and nothing would happened. Who knows what she was thinking right before hitting the send button. But unfortunately, a lot of blacks are not that far removed from what happened. Some of us still have certains wounds that haven't healed based off of individual situations. But I can understand what she was saying. The song is called "Niggas In Paris". The self-proclaimed niggas(Jay & Ye) were literally in Paris, performing this song 11 times in a row. So niggas were in Paris, onstage, for real. She was speaking on the title of the song and stating that Jay & Ye are actually where they claimed to be, that this wasn't just a title but an actual fact.

When we out in public, calling each other nigga this and nigga that in front of other races, what gives us the right to say "hold up, you can't say this word. This is OUR word"?? That shit makes us niggERS! Just speaking my mind, that's all. Hope no one was offended by this post. "It's just my thoughts man, right or wrong. Just what I was feeling at the time". And if you are feeling salty about this post, I will offer these parting words: NIGGA PLEASE!!

Music Still Is.....

As I sit here and listen to this cd, I find myself in a trance, a euphoric state of mind(and nah, it's not the Cuervo & Sprite!). "Music is my therapy". I have said this before, and true thinkers can relate to this. Music takes me to a place that no person has ever taken me before. It evokes a feeling that I find myself chasing daily, only to end up pressing play and realizing that the feeling was at the tip of my finger the whole time. Music tickles my funny bone, massages my aches, de-stresses my mind, and eradicates my tension. Music is that one thing, that one perfection, that one creation  that holds me with the same love that a mother gives to a newborn the first time she sees it. Music has been with me since day one. I think I was conceived to music, introduced to music during pregnancy, and finally met music the day I came out. In my mind, I believe she was there waiting for me to enter this world, ready to console my soul and ease my worries, prepared me for the struggles of life. Music is what keeps me sane when dealing with the George Zimmerman's of the world. Music is my little voice in my head telling me that everything is going to be ok, even when the world argues differently. Music is my all.

#KONY2012

KONY 2012 from INVISIBLE CHILDREN on Vimeo.


During and after watching this video, I felt something move within me. This video is deep. I wish there was more that I could do, and maybe there is. But first thing is to get the message out there.

Suspect: Joseph Kony
Crime: killings, mutilations, rape, and in some accounts even cannibalism.
Location: Northern Uganda, Africa

Kony is known for attacking families in their house, taking the kids to be used for his army. They say he also forces the kids to kill their family members and neighbors, giving them nowhere to run back to and ultimately having to choose to fight for him. The little boys become soldiers in his army, the little girls become sex slaves as "rewards" or become wives, which Kony reportedly has 60 of.

Barack has put into motion the capturing and dismantling of Kony's Lord Resistance Army(LRA), which is a giant step into the direction that we need to go in. Kony has stated that his mission is sent from God, based on the 10 Commandments. If I'm not mistaken, "thou shalt not kill" and "thou shalt not steal" are two of those commandments.

The number of kids conscripted under his reign is staggering, as little as 30,000 and as high as 104,000, all within the past 26 years. Captives that become troublesome often have their nose, ears, and/or lips cut off, then sometimes are forced to eat their own flesh. Something has to be done about this monster, and something has to be done now. I hope this video and consequential actions shed enough light on this situation and also brings Kony to justice.

#KONY2012...the time is now

A Heart Divided

Dazed and confused, unsure of what to do 
Past or the present, which one do you choose 
If you had it your way, which one has to lose? 


Mind is here, heart is elsewhere
13 years vs. 5 months, doesn't really compare 
Change has to come, I can feel it in the air 


Past is gone, God rest his soul 
Present is hanging on by a thread, trying not to let go 
Future seems miles away, somewhere lost on the road 


Problems and situations, situations and problems 
They are priority, first we have to solve them, 
Work our way to the top, but it's so cold at the bottom 


She tries to move on, but her direction is undecided 
A love stronger than you have ever known, I can provide it 
But she may never know, because her heart is divided....

We All Gotta Go One Day...

R.I.P. To Whitney, and all the other greats that have come and gone.




I was at the crib. My homeboy was cutting my hair, the radio on in the other room. We were laughing and joking when the DJ came over the air to announce Whitney Houston's death. It was as if he didn't know how to relay the message. His mood was real somber, his voice hating to be the bearer of such bad news. I immediately looked at my Twitter, and sure enough my timeline was filled with "R.I.P. Whitney's" and "No, please tell me it can't be true's". Went to Facebook. EVERYbody and their mother were paying their respects to Whitney. Of course in this cruel, disrespectful world I saw the "crack/coke jokes" as well as insults to Bobby Brown and Bobbi Kristina. A few people texted me to see if I had heard the news. I envisioned someone in their house shedding a tear for the late Ms. Houston. She was iconic to us. Before there was Beyonce, there was Whitney. I seen a few videos today where she had the mini-skirts, big hair, and beautiful face. She created the blueprint. The thing that made me think the most though was people didn't want to believe it, didn't believe it could be true. I understand how shocking it could be, but sometimes I hear things like this and think that people don't realize that we are here temporarily. No matter who you are. I seen this on someone's twitter: "People die everyday. That's a part of life. Know it's a better place than being here and you shouldn't be sad. Every ending is a new beginning". No one lives forever. At least not in the body that you are currently in. And the phrase "Y.O.L.O.(You Only Live Once) is a cool one, but technically if your soul right you will live twice, die once. But I'm not about to preach to you. People have said that during Black History Month, we always lose great ones. People have said that there is something heavenly about the number 7. Michael Jackson, Left Eye, & Aaliyah died on the 25th. Whitney died on 2-11-12. I indeed believe that the number 7 is heavenly, but I don't think you can just group a few people with that number. In my opinion, it was their time to be called home. Just like anybody else that has passed. And just like each and every one of us will be when it's our time.


As I stated elsewhere, we all have to go. It's written. So all you can do is live right and enjoy your life. I love all of y'all. Celebrate life.

Ramblings of a Madman...

As I sit here listening to Kem, a million thoughts race through my head. It's as if I'm hosting the Olympics in my brain. I try to pick a "winner", hoping that one will give me the inspiration to rattle off a few words. I start, then I erase. Nothing is helping. I look to my left. My bottle of water sits there, as if saying "don't look to me for inspiration. I'm the most boring thing on this planet. But I'm good for ya" *in its' Chris Rock voice*. Damn. I look at my outfit: Red/black Cincinnati hat, black tee, red balling shorts, black/white chucks. I have a coordination problem. Started a long time ago. No company coming over. No one to see me, but yet I can't throw on mismatch clothing. Anyways, off of that. I think about my situation. Funny how the word 'situation' can be used to describe different things. I have several situations, some good, some bad. The main situation causes stress, has me in here on a Friday night alone, writing, rambling. My situation seems to taunt me at times. Maybe I deserve it. My other situation puts a smile on my face. That situation always make me feel good when it's around. But as previously stated, I'm here alone. So as much as that situation helps, I need it's contact to keep my head above water. To keep me sane, if that's possible. I think about God. I wonder what He thinks of me right now. Is He happy with me? Am I too far away from Him to hear what He's trying to say to me. I think...I think...and I think some more. All these thoughts, yet nothing at the forefront. Can't even focus on lust. That's a first. What am I doing here? Besides taking up some poor saps time by making them read this, thinking that they will get to the good part eventually. Sorry poor sap. I'm just a ball of confusion, an orgy of perplexities. I don't even know what I'm talking about right now. And the sad thing is I'm NOT drinking. I would "smh" but I might mess up the race. I'm done for now....

Mind vs. Heart

After reading a friend's blog on something similar, I received their "permission" to somewhat copy their subject matter. It's not something that I feel comfortable with, but giving that our writing styles are different, I think I'm okay. Plus their post was like the Pacific Ocean(deep); mine will be more like an Olympic swimming pool(doesn't compare).

My mind is full. All I see is the multi-bodied creation before me. There is one head composed of several faces laid atop of one another. Complexion is forever changing, ranging between shades of brown, white, yellow, and red. Part of the hair is natural: locs, afro, and ponytail take residence on one side of the face. The other side consists of long flowing hair. What people like to call "that good hair". Possibly of Spanish decent. I see some facial parts that remind me of someone, but because there are too many noses, mouths, eyes, and jawbones on this one face, it's hard to pinpoint where one person starts and one person ends. As hideous as this sounds, I am attracted to it. Desire burns deep inside of me, lust being the gasoline that fuels this fire. One big face leading to numerous bodies. As the bodies come into focus, the blood takes refuge in the lower part of my body, resting comfortably in the large vessel it likes to visit often. Each body has it's own hue, own shape. But one thing is constant amongst them: heels, wifebeater, and thong. Big asses, small asses, big breasts, small breasts, long legs, short legs. My mind is going in overdrive, boiling the blood below, causing me to think irrationally. The vessel "points outward", as if it's my guide. The bodies beckon me, and my feet have now become in sync with the vessel who has started receiving orders from up top. I try to control myself but this vessel belongs in water, and the bodies have sensed this. Moist thongs tease me, opened mouths invite me. I'm trying to convince myself that this isn't the road for me anymore. I want more out of life, but my mind isn't willing to pass up a good time. An easy good time. As if on cue, the bodies strip naked, leaving the heels on, spreading legs, turning around, bending over, reminding the vessel of the special treatment he receives. As the vessel becomes full of blood, it gets heavy. Strong. Hard to fight the gravitational pull that is now put on him. As I get closer, my mind gets slightly overwhelmed. So many options, so many memories. The confusion allows me one last minute ditch-effort, but to no avail. My whole body is now in tune with each other, craving the temporary satisfaction. But something makes me stop for a minute, makes me wonder aloud: if all of me is for this, what is fighting against it? I look inside of me, and there's the answer. My heart....


 My heart longs for her. She gives me wings. My little Red Bull. Our hearts have started to intertwine, slowly becoming one. She appears before me, skinny jeans, heels, sweater, scarf, glasses, lip gloss. Standing 5'7 with 4-inch heels on. 144 pounds, body like a goddess. Slim where it's important, thick where it counts. She looks at me and I see the love behind her eyes. I also see the hurt, the shaky trust. And I embrace it all, prepared to go to war to declare her independence from a troubled past. I see her and the naked bodies writhing in my mind are becoming a distant past. There's a new fire that burns deep inside, fueled by love, want, comfortability, and God. My mind is trying to gain strength, going back over past episodes, showcasing the pleasures that I have enjoyed in life. But my heart displays the emptiness that I've felt for a long time, a void that lifes' pleasures couldn't fill. My heart shows me what happened when I didn't listen to it, instead choosing to hear the fallacies cooked up by my mind and my vessel, causing pain to myself as well as to others. The same others that are not part of the creature behind me. The same others that, although they are different, are represented in the beauty before me. The heart reminds the vessel how it feels when they are both involved. The heart reminds the body how it feels to be next to someone that you want to lay with, hold, and wake up next to. And for the last task, the heart speaks to the mind: 

Heart: I have let you take charge for a long time. And where has it gotten us? Sure there were many nights of pleasure, but do you remember how you would drive home afterwards, beating yourself up? 

Mind: Yeah, but... 

Heart: (interrupts)..and you know how you would drown yourself in alcohol just to go through with some of these "jobs"? 

Mind: Yeah, b-b-but I, umm.... 

Heart: And you remember how you would hurt the ones whom I was involved with, only for me to have to work overtime to fix your mess? 

Mind: yeah 

Heart: Well it's over for all that. I entrusted the body to you, gave you authority over the prized "vessel". Let you use him, all for the sake of trying to prove something to yourself. But no more. From now on, I will determine where he goes. And whom he go with. Do I make myself clear? 

Mind: (sigh) Yes, u do. 

The bodies are slowly becoming a silhoutte, a blur, a reminder of what life was like as a care-free spirit. The heart and the mind are working together now, trying to be a formidable team once again. 

Motivation

It's hard for me to write, although it's something that I feel passionate about. Am I good? That's up for debate. Do I enjoy my writings? That's not even a question. But in the last year, I haven't been able to dig deep and produce that part of me that I cherish. True, I've written a few blogs here and there, spoke on relationship issues or just everyday living. But that's not what I started writing for. My true love is erotic literature. I mean, who doesn't like sex. It's just been hard to parlay that feeling into words. Just as much as I enjoy having it, I enjoy talking/writing about it(okay, maybe not JUST as much, but I have a deep love for orally expressing my interest in it. No pun intended). It's been hard to find the words to put on paper lately. I've started and stopped so many stories. I just can't find my motivation. Somebody get Kelly Rowland on the phone! Seriously though, I think it's about time for me to produce something. My "fans" have been waiting, and I don't want to lose the audience I have, even if it's just a few friends. People ask me what will it take to motivate me. I have even had females ask to be my "inspiration". I appreciate the gesture, but it doesn't work that way. The thing that has gotten my mind churning the most lately has been reading other peoples' work. To see someone else's mind at work is slowly starting to get me back to where I used to be. And I've started following a new blog lately that has really captivated my attention. I'm just hoping that I can hold on to this feeling long enough to bang out something new. Not sure how that just came out, but you get the point! Anyways, I'm rambling right about now. But this is a good drank!!

   

I BLEED Carolina Blue! lol...yeah, I'm a UNC fan, so all Dookies, you know what it is! When arguing with my homies about Carolina, sometimes I have to use my trump card because Carolina will disappoint me at the most inconvenient time. My trump card? Peep the pic above. The greatest basketball player to ever do it. AND he's wearing a UNC jersey. So I say, whenever Duke(or any other college team) can produce the greatest, then come see me. Is it childish? Probably. Is it true? Hell yeah! lol.

I didn't attend UNC. And my love for Carolina goes deeper than just choosing a team. I have a deep connection to the UNC hospital staff for saving the life of my brother, and for that I am forever grateful. So when I say I'm riding with them forever, it's not just a statement. It's a promise.

Men Lie, Women Lie, Numbers Lie??

     This is a topic that I seen on twitter, and while I was in the shower I gave it more thought(for some reason, in the shower or on the highway is where I do some of my best thinking). The topic at hand is, do numbers(sexual partners) really matter. This may be a little sensitive to some, but we're going in anyway. No pun intended.

     Do you want to know how many people your mate has slept with? Me personally, I don't think I would ever ask that question. Maybe it's because that was then, and this is now. Maybe it's because I don't want to know. Some of the responses I have seen were "Yeah. You don't buy a car without knowing how many miles it has", or a decent one was "yeah because you want to know what kind of decision-making they do". Then of course there were the "no because the past is the past". Those seem to ring common for people full of optimism. So again I ask, do you want to know?

     It's funny how men and women generally respond to this question. If a woman asks a man how many females he has slept with, the guy will more than likely use the "past is the past" statement. The question will get sidestepped because men don't feel the need to express what he has done before you. He may feel that she can't handle the truth, or worse, will throw it back in his face during argument time. (Ex. "It's 2:00am. Where you been. Probably out there adding another name to your list since you never seemed to learn to keep it in your pants!). So to avoid the drama, a man will try to take your eyes off the past and focus them on the future. If a man asks a woman how many guys she has slept with, the outcome could be a little different. She may use the "past is the past" line. But the common "myth" is that she will give you a number. What number it is, who knows! She may give you the number of boyfriends she has had, the number of lovers that she actually enjoyed, or she may give what she consider a reasonable number to past inspection. Lol. Seriously though, she may even just be honest. But the thing is, she will give a number. Why? Because she knows how soft man is. Oh sure they are the toughest thing around on the outside, but on the inside lies one of the most fragile things known to mankind: an ego. He wants to feel that he got a good one. Doesn't matter what she does for him now. Man just don't want to be that guy walking around with a woman that the whole city knows as promiscuous. His ego can't handle it because he focuses too much on his image. And woman, being the caterer that she tends to be for her man, strokes his ego. She knows that a little lie here could lead to a lifetime of happiness. And because of how some men would react, can you blame her?

     Sex is everywhere. Your radio, your movies or videos, internet. It's even used to describe things. How many times have you heard of an object being called sexy? Or heard the terms shoe-gasm or ear-gasm? Seems like nowadays everything reverts back to sex. Obtaining sexual partners is probably easier now then ever before. With that being said, the average number of partners is probably higher now than 10, 20 years ago. For men AND women. I say that because a lot of men are still going by the double standard rule. I don't agree with it, but I know how men think. In their mind, women are wired differently then men. Women are "supposed" to care more while men possess the animalistic instincts of the wild, so therefore women aren't "supposed" to have as many partners as men. While some may feel that's the case, women are just as equal as man in society, so a "hoe" refers to both genders. And men, please remember that this is not a badge of honor.

    Numbers don't tell a whole story. Comedian Lil Duval said it best: "the biggest hoes are the ones looking for love". What this means is a person who's looking for love meets someone, takes a liking to them, and then do what they think they need to do in order to keep/make that person happy. Then 3 months later after it doesn't work out, they are back out there looking for love again, in all the wrong places. This practice may increase numbers dramatically, but it doesn't define the person. They would be the same person if they fell in love after the 2nd try. Their only flaw is wanting love but going about it the wrong way. Another scenario with numbers is, say for example a woman had 10 partners and another had 5. The one with 10 was looking for love but constantly ending up with the wrong type of guys, whereas the one with 5 was rotating her guys in and out, some at the same time(threesomes, 4somes, etc). Would you look at the numbers, or the actions? 

     At the end of the day, numbers are numbers. Don't judge someone because the number they have isn't the number you think they should have. Because if you believe in God, whether your number is 1 or 100 and they aren't your spouse, you are equally wrong. So stop dwelling on the past. If you are with someone you are accepting them for who they are, flaws and all.

Music is...

I don't know about you, but when I hear this I just mellow out. No words needed, just melodies emanating from the trumpet, engulfing you into a warm embrace. Exquisite sounds, like caviar for my ears. This brings me to a tranquil state...puts me at peace. Music is my drug, my lover, my rest haven. It takes me up to the highest of highs, down to the lowest of lows. It sympathizes with me, having experienced any problem that I have. Then in a split second, it energizes me. It takes me to a party, dancing with me as if it had long legs, a soft backside, and the gracefulness of a ballerina. I am in love with music, and I know music loves me back. And not just any love. It loves me unconditionally. The slightest touch from me, and music is instantly turned on, ready to take me for a ride. Ready to erase the worries of that day. Music is my wife, my mistress and my babymama. Music is my filet mignon, my Louis XIII. Music is my loud, purple haze and kush all in one. Music is my Maybach, my G5, my yacht and my Ducati. Music is my therapist, my wingman, my Ambien. Music isn't quite my savior because I have one of those, but music is my heart.

Trust Issues

What's going on folks. I stepped away for awhile, but I'm back like Diddy's rap career(I think it's okay for him to stop now. Diddy, we begging you!). But you know what it is. After discussions among friends, I blog about it. So without further ado, let's get started on the subject at hand: trust.

Trust is a big word. Not literally, of course. It has several definitions, as it could be used as a noun or a verb. But the main definition that I prefer is "firm reliance on the integrity, ability, etc., of a person or thing". Now that is deep. Whether you trust someone to hit the game-winning shot, or trust them with your heart, you totally believe in whatever they say or do. If you have been at practice and seen your teammate hit a shot from a particular spot on the basketball court and he's never missed, when it comes to gametime and he's called upon to make that shot to win the game, you will be confident that the ball is going in the basket. There's no way they can miss after being so perfect in practice. So how does one apply that same trust into their relationship? For starters, it has to be applied from the beginning. Then it has to be maintained, because having to regain trust is a hard task, IF you are given that privilege. Even if that is the case, it's harder to achieve that same level of trust as before. Suppose that same teammate is called upon to hit the big shot, but you have never seen him make it before. This time, he misses it. Do you think the coach will call upon him to take the shot next time? Probably not. But at the end of the day, sure a person can do the right thing, be honest with their words, but trust in relationships isn't necessarily a tangible thing. For example, you can't take trust to the gym, watch it work out, then make a decision on how strong yours is. This is something that you just have to take a chance on, unfortunately. To have trust in a relationship means to have total faith in a person's words and actions, and it won't happen overnight.

"Confident Expectation" is another definition of trust. It is very similar to the first definition. How many times did we see Michael Jordan take the last shot of the game to win it for his team? And when he pulled up, you could see the expectation on his teammates' faces. They knew they were going to win. But he didn't make all of them. Yet each time the team was in that situation, everybody knew who was getting the ball. But Jordan had to earn that trust from his team. Being put into that situation, being the one that is believed in requires proven results. Can, without a shadow of a doubt, say that you can trust ur mates' decision-making and not second guess it? And vice versa? Oh it's easy to trust with the small decisions. But what about when he's going to a party and you heard that the girl all his boys nicknamed Jawbone was going to be there? Or what about when her and her homegirl who's a little wild go to see their favorite singer and they got invited to chill backstage. Do you have confidence in what is expected of him/her? This should be the easiest if you know your mate. But it should also be easy period because there is no cause for stressing yourself over something that you ultimately don't have any control over. A person will do what they want to if it's something they really desire, but a trustworthy person will make sure it lines up with the expectations of their relationship.

Another thing about trust is you have to distinguish your mate from everyone else. If they were the same as others, I don't think you would be with them. So just because a person says or does something that you've seen in someone who's lost your trust doesn't mean you should throw them in that category as well. Prime example: I've heard women say that some of the biggest lies men tell when it comes to their cell phone is "my phone died", "I didn't get a text from you" or "I was sleep". The reason SOME guys tell these lies is because these things actually happen, and they need a lie so they grab on to something that is honest yet simple because their mind need to be able to stick to their lie instead of making & keeping up a story. Like I always say, the fakers are messing it up for the real guys out here bc the fakers see what real guys are doing and try to recycle it to other women. This produces the "heard it all before syndrome" which could lead to a person missing out on something good. With that being said, don't look at WHAT is coming out of their mouth and automatically assume it's a lie. You need to look at WHO is speaking, and that should determine if what is being said is a lie. If you trust someone, you won't put them in the group with everyone else. If you feel that you don't know a person well enough to know if they are speaking the truth, then sometimes you just have to go out on a limb. Unless it's something blatantly foolish, believe them. Trust has to be built. It's like a sandcastle. It stays intact until something comes to knock it down.

Okay, it's late now. I need to go to bed. But the moral of the story is stop being paranoid and give people a chance. A person can't earn trust if they have to break through a brickwall just to show that they are trustworthy. On the flip side, don't be a dummy out here in these streets letting people use you because you THINK you have confident expectations of them when they don't even have any of themselves. Be smart. Well folks, I'm out. Love love and hate hate.