amoureaux -

I will cheat. And before everyone in the world starts gasping and calling me names, here’s a brief intermission for a big FUCK YOU, for even thinking about judging me when if it was your friend saying this shit, it’d be all gravy.

When I am in a relationship, I will try the most non-hostile approach to fixing whatever problems arise. But that never works, cause niggas don’t listen most of the time until something you’re saying affects them. I try the talking, I try the reasoning, compromising, everything. But this damn generation lacks the ability to communicate, so wtf am I wasting my time for? Every relationship I’ve been in has been void of communication and it damn sure ain’t my fault. Seems like people don’t give a fuck about you until you start taking dumps in their fruit loops.

But back to the point of this, I will cheat. I don’t think that makes me a cheater because I don’t just go out and fuck a person for no reason, I think that’s disgusting. But after a while, say a year or two, of trying the same shit over and over again, getting let down, lack of communication, guess what? This one doesn’t give a fuck but I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t have the courage to just leave the relationship. I’m in it in the first place because I love the person and believe they have potential. Hell, it’s usually good sometimes. But when problems arise, it’s always the same ones, and muthafuckas don’t listen. I get emotionally drained and somewhere between the screaming, cursing, and dish-breaking, I get numb and stop giving a rat’s ass because imo, in those moments, neither do they. So fuck it all. I stop calling. If they call, I answer, but I lack interest. Usually doing something in the background like playing World of Warcraft that prevents me from at least appearing to care. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, sure. But I don’t give a flying shit at the time about that. And guess what happens? Out of nowhere, they sure do! All of a sudden, they blowin’ up my phone, hitting up my Myspace, coming to my crib like it’s a normal thing they did all the time, buying me shit. That’s usually around the time that my pain turns into amusement to me and I pick fights ’cause deep down inside, I feel like crying, and it makes me want to snap necks- but that’s illegal. So I pick fights and I push them away. They just get closer. I pull the fuck off card and I tell them I need to be alone because I have personal problems that are causing rifts in the relationship, taking all blame, because I don’t give a damn enough to tell the truth anymore. Quick and easy. Scared? No, bored of it all. Been there, done that, tried it, didn’t work. So don’t even call me a coward. I lack the emotion to be afraid of anything.

But I don’t know anymore. I’m not asking if it’s wrong, cause I don’t care what anyone thinks. Just talking, I suppose. Fuck him…and fuck you, too.

No boyfriend’s were hurt in the creation of this post,
which leads to the next.

If you don’t feel what the pencil scripts, then nine times out of ten, you ain’t been through shit.

It’s so sweet. I thought I was fucked up with no shoes til I met me a nigga with no feet. I tried to help niggas, some niggas I couldn’t but that’s my mom in me, I love niggas I shouldn’t. Dudes wanna shoot ‘em til he nailed and some wanna threaten me, ruin my health. But let me teach you a little something about depression… ain’t SHIT you can do to me that I ain’t already thought about doing to myself. I’m the voice for the youth that’s living with no reason. FUCK record sales, I give them something to believe in. If your day starts in a broken home, though we’ve never met, at least you feel like you’re not alone.