“Truths & Affirmations”
because when you’re black, affirmations can be truths, but truths are also just affirmations. “black excellence”, “black lives matter”, “rhodes has fallen”. i see very little evidence that supports any of those statements.
for me, to be black is to live in hope, to live in a seemingly never-ending affirmation. maybe never fully acknowledging the truth is a coping mechanism. because the reality is my truth has been stolen, and the affirmations are the remnants of a half remembered dream.
am i really fully human? am i really deserving of love? i mean, i say the very catalyst for all life on earth looks down on me with favour, but very little else seems to – and even less so for black women.
i’m just exhausted. i’m tired of living in hope. and i’m angry at the fact the only way out of that hope seems to be through silence & assimilating into the very thing i hate.
sorry, i didn’t mean for this to be so depressing. it’s just that today self-worth feels like an affirmation instead of a truth.
listen to kendrick lamar’s ‘alright’ if you can.
deeply
“These are stills from a video you will never see,” in my head it’s just a rush of emotion, I have no script to follow. I’ve been having sadistic daydreams lately. I want to suffer for you. I want to show you how much I can suffer. I want it to irk you. I want it to unnerve you. I want it to scare you, just a little. I want you to beat me for all of the wrong reasons. Break me. Again. We both fucking love it this way. Crush me and then pick up my pieces. It’s all so bitter-sweet. No. Salty. Salty like tears and cum and our sweat that soaks the sheets. I’m so fucking thirsty.