Category Archives: Thoughts

The brain won..

How am I supposed to listen to the radio when every song reminds me of you.. 

How can I stop trying when I’m obsessed with you, when I’ve overdosed on your love already.. 

How do I breathe knowing you are my air, that’s no longer giving me oxygen..

Why do I do this, knowing I’m pushing you away further..

Why do I let my Anxiety get the best of me, every last time.

Why did I let you become my favorite obsession…


Because of you..

Because of you, my child has to grow up not only being a minority, but being a minority with baggage. Because of you, I don’t know if I’m the victim of rape, because I never liked you like that, but you were my friend; and you’d never do that, right? You’re in jail, because of you. Sure, she might have lied, but it was your door that she walked through.. Because of you, my child’s never known her father, and because of you I hope she never needs to. Because of you I often forget that she was created by more than just me, because it’s been just me from day one.. Because of You.
Because of you, she’s not an only child, and I don’t know the things they’ll discuss. Because of you, I don’t know how you’ll be portrayed to her, but it won’t be as a father. Because of you, there’s going to be a stigma that follows All of us. Because people ask questions that I don’t know the answers to.. Because of you, there’s an empty space on my child’s birth certificate, and a void I hope we’ll someday fill. Because of you, I wonder how Prince Charming became another devil in disguise, so quickly.

Spoiled, little, rich girl…

You don’t care that the first time I got molested I was only 15… you don’t care that even after 2 years I’m still contemplating whether or not my daughter was conceived out of rape. You wouldn’t care if I told you how broken the home inside that gorgeous house was. Because to you, I’m nothing more than a spoiled little rich girl.

As A Young Mother…

To say I’m hopeful is an understand. I’m hopeful that when you’re my age, that seeing my name appear randomly on your phone won’t feel like a burden. I’m hopeful that the thought of hugging me isn’t something that make’s you feel uncomfortable.. I’m hopeful, that when you hear a pear say, “I have the best parents in the world!” that you don’t think of me and scoff at how someone could actually love their parent(s) their much. I’m hopeful that when you grow older, you’ll realize that I tried my best, and that everything I do is with your best interest at heart. I hope that you’ll be patient with me, even if you don’t show it, because I’m still learning too. I hope that you never feel like anything less than the greatest part me, because if it weren’t for you, my life may have never taken direction. I hope that I tell you the right things when you need to hear them, and that you don’t resent me for not knowing how/when to say things. I hope that you’re never ashamed of me, and never take the small things for granted. I’m hopeful that you appreciate experiencing things for the first tine, together, as much as I know I will; like Disneyland or maybe a cruise, the possibilities of where I hope we’ll go are endless. I hope that I can push you to do better than I have, that you actually give a damn about school and get good grades. I hope that I never crush any of your dreams and only push you closer to your aspirations. I’m hopeful that your wildest dreams are greater than my imagination, and that you let me do everything in my power to help you achieve them. I’m also hopeful, that you’ll never use my own words against me. But in the end, I’m just hopeful that you wind up happy and that your health is never anything short of spectacular.



P.S. I claim no rights to the photo below.



And then it dawned on me, that maybe I am still afraid of love; in the dark hours of the night constantly searching for a new obsession while simultaneously fueling my own. Maybe I’m irrational because of the times I wasn’t.. maybe I need an excuse to only give all of my 3/4 and not my whole. Maybe I just need to feel like an obsession to curb my addiction. & maybe if I were addicted too it wouldn’t hurt so bad, constantly. But knowingly, only I have the recipe for the addiction that captivates all of me, but also grounds me. Maybe being two different people is simply exhausting, maybe I just want someone to understand, to help me feel normal again. But daytime strikes and all but the tiniest slip is fine again. Night time awakens a demon.. a jealous, insidious, monster inside of me who’s curiosity becomes a hunger and who’s suspicions become aware. The eyes I need to calm me, are closed, and as of now it’s battle time: the wicked vs the brain.

Dear Sweetheart

Dear Sweetheart,

You’re 7 weeks old as I write this, and I’m becoming increasingly confident that your biological father and the father I plan to give you are two different men. I don’t know what I’ll have told you by the time you read this, if you ever do, but please know that I’ve kept your well being in mind this entire time and only want the very best for my baby girl. If my due date was wrong, and you are in fact mixed, I feel you should know about both men. Man #1, the father I plan to give you, I  had been seeing for a decent amount of time before you came along (“offically” since February of 2015.. 3 months before you were conceived) we had our issues, but otherwise were great together. He was quirky, and his straight matched my sway, I loved him and hopefully we will spend our lives with him. However, we broke up and did not get back together, despite his attempts, until after I brought you home. Man #1 is your daddy in my eyes, and hopefully in yours as well. Man #2 was short, about a foot shorter than me when I’d rock heels (which were all I wore following the temporary break up of #1 and I) athletic, very intelligent, and as smooth as Usher. He was a friend of mine who I made sure was never a threat to my relationship with Man #1. He was adopted at a young age by an older single woman who stressed academics, she sounded like an amazing woman from what I’d heard. He has a two year old daughter, he often took the mother to her appointments and did go see them in the hospital, but I don’t know either of their names; however, I know someone that does, and unfortunately… past the pictures in his wallet, he’s not around. Man #2 has many religious tattoos, and one of that little girls footprints and initials, it’s the only reason I know her age. As much as I love to live a double life, and never admit to who I really am, I used to love cocaine. & It kills me to say, you were conceived on it, at a trap house. Not a legitimate trap house, because drugs weren’t made there, but boy did they (with exclusions) filter through there… Man #2 seemed like a great guy, he really did, but let me tell you about the night me and Man #1 broke up..

It was the middle of the night & I’d awaken to a text, Man #1 had been thinking heavily and felt he was no longer in a place to take on a relationship, and broken heartedly I understood. He didn’t have a job at the moment, he didn’t have his own place, and his truck needed work; not to mention, he liked drugs and knew that I knew exactly who to call to get them.

I don’t remember if I worked the following day or not, but I do know that I did a lot of cocaine, played beerpong on my fancy LED table, and had a few drinks. I did a lot more than my body could handle, and late that night I wandered to a friends room to regain my head and come down. Man #2, who knew I was newly single and wanted me to be his, followed me into the dark room but respectfully kept the door open at the time. “Will you get me some water?’ I said looking up his shadow, dehydrated and miserable, still trying to fathom that Man #1 was no longer mine.. he nodded, left the room, and came back with a cup he’d gotten from the kitchen in his hand, “I’ve got your water, but can I have a kiss?” (Roughly quoting, the exact details are a little fuzzy, but you’ll get the jist) I told him that I didn’t know, and to every question he asked I simply replied “I dunno” & I meant those words.. I was in a daze of coming down, heartbreak, numbness, and confusion. He kissed me, and I knew it wasn’t right, but I didn’t stop him.. and one thing led to another.

A few weeks later, my period was 6 days late, and despite how little of time I had before going to work that Sunday morning, I took a pregnancy test… that test confirmed that I was at least 3 weeks along, and shooken but not surprised, I sent a picture to my 2 best friends, got in my car, and off I went.

The next day, I took another test, this was real and I had no idea what to do. Man #2 was currently away for military training, and when he asked how things were a few days later, I sent him a picture of the two tests side by side. “I’m assuming it’s mine?” He asked, and I said yes, because logically you had to be. He implied that I should get an abortion, but knowing I firmly disagreed said we needed to talk when he got home; I agreed. When he got home he felt it was still too soon, but when we went out places he did acknowledge that I was pregnant and was sure not to smoke around me. He still drank around me, but that would in no way hurt you. . I didn’t know what to do, or what I wanted, but every time I mentioned you to him alls I heard was “abortion” “closed adoption” “ultimately it’s your decision, but you know how I feel. ” He was no longer interested in being with me, with us. “A child is not what either of us need or want right now, and we both know it.” The list goes on &  on, and I honestly might never forgive him. In my eyes, those words ceased his parental rights to you, the only thing he ever said right during that time was that I really needed to go see a Dr. I stopped taking to him unless necessary.

A couple months later, I went to see Man #1 on his birthday, fearful that I’d ruin his night with news of me being pregnant by another man.. Especially knowing that it occurred within a week of our breakup. We laid down on his bed to watch a movie before falling asleep, and I told him I needed something to drink, he offered me a drink of his bud light and I insisted that I couldn’t.. when he asked why, I placed his hand on my tummy and told him there was something in there.. he looked at me, and I knew he was both shocked and questioning how/when, so looking away I told him “don’t worry, it’s not yours.

After I broke the news to Man #1, he told me that awhile after we broke up, he had started talking to someone else, and that he kissed her but couldn’t sleep with her, because she wasn’t me. & That the only person he truly wanted was me, and that he wanted to be around even if it meant raising someone else’s child.. He told me that he felt partially responsible, because “maybe if I didn’t break up with you, that wouldn’t have happened” & “I imagine you felt lonely” truthfully, I don’t know what I felt.. He was probably right though,  because I wouldn’t have felt the need to get as fucked up as I did, and Man #2 wouldn’t have ceased his opportunity to take advantage of me.

I finally went to the Dr, and my due date would have made you by Man #1, we also found out you were a girl.  I texted Man #2 that, and didn’t hear from him again until you were born, telling me that he had to admit that my daughter was beautiful. Man #1, on the other hand, was already completely and utterly in love with you.. and me.

My pregnancy was by no means an easy one, and even if I had known who your biological father was, it still wouldn’t have been. Being high risk, I spent so much time preparing to possibly lose you, but so excited every time you grew, I had no idea what to expect whenever I’d go in for an ultrasound or appointment at that point.

But out came my precious baby, and every day I’m grateful to know that you made it and to see your heart still beating. I can’t stand Man #2, he has great genes but a terrible soul.. On the other hand, if he gave me you, then maybe he’s not so bad afterall.

I love you sweetheart, I always have and I always will. -Mommy.



Apparently, I’m a trending topic!

No, I’m not talking about social media. I’m trending in small towns that surround the city I live in. Last spring, I was a “big tittied slut” in the words of girls who had never met me. Why? Because I had agreed to go to prom with a guy from their school, as a friend, who’s never had the best reputation until recently. I laughed, shrugged it off, said “coming from girls who can’t name a single man I’ve slept with, just shows ignorance.” I ended up not going to said prom, but not for that reason. In fact, the reason I didn’t go is quite complicated, but long story short? He wasn’t allowed to go.

Now, there’s rumors spreading in a town half hour away from me. These one’s saying I’m sleeping with a friend of mine that lives there, doing coke, and snorting pills. When I heard them, I told my friend, and we both laughed. There is absolutely no chemistry between the two of, and I’m not a “druggie.” But, I told the girl who told me, that if they wanna talk, “tell them I think I’m pregnant with his baby too.” I know pregnancy is a very serious thing, but if talking about me makes them feel slightly less miserable, let them.

Why? Because I know me, my friends know me, and my family knows me. I couldn’t care less what girls in small towns outside of my own are saying, or even thinking about me; in fact, I don’t care what the people in my own town say as long as I know the truth. To be successful in life, originality is key. Anybody can make copies of what they already have! I create my own happiness, and nobody is going to stop me. Rumors are words, spread by small minded people, who are trying to compensate for something they feel like they’re lacking. 729283bebe47abb10d6930cfcfefbee6 000000000-Rumors-Newspapers