GOT DAMNIT!

So I'm excited that I've said the hell with J.R. and I go home from work, and I'm in the best mood ever. I go home and I decide to give my baby Elijah some cold water.

Elijah is the happiest bird ever. He sits in my mother's room, and looks at his reflection in the mirror, sings to himself and walks back in fourth.

He sings when he hears the water running.

He sings when he hears plastic bags rumbling.

He sings when he hears Sade on the radio.

He sings when you bring him cold, fresh water. He's always so happy, and rushes right over to it as soon as you bring it.

When I have a bad day, all I need to cheer me up is to take Elijah some water and he makes me smile.

When I went to give him some water last night, I saw him down on the ground. I looked in his dish to see whether or not he had food, because I hate it when he eats off of the ground.

Only tonight, Elijah was on his side.

Elijah was dead.

I ran into the living room hysterical, and weeping to my mother that Elijah was dead. She came in and looked at him and told me it would be alright. I cried all last night.

When my father got home, he said he "felt sorry for his little buddy". That talking to me like a 3 year old last night fucked me up even more, and I cried harder.

I got my little baby when I was 15 or 16, and I miss him already so much.

I'm such a fucking punk.

I had a nightmare last night about a dirty bathroom in Beyonce's house (don't ask) and woke up, relieved that it was only a dream. But then I remembered my bird was dead. I felt bad again.

When I got up this morning I asked Daddy if he had buried Elijah. He said yes. I asked if he was sure he was dead.

How stupid is that?

I have to stop writing now. I'm getting teary eyed.

I'm such a punk.

You had to have seen this one coming

Dag nabbit. I slept with J.R. But wait. It's not how you think. Seriously. I needed to have sex. I mean, you can't have sex regularly, and suddenly stop! I hadn't done it in SEVEN WEEKS!



Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but as I stated before, he and I were in a "relationship", and were having sex pretty often. So I needed it. Also, I'm totally giving you guys the wrong impression of he and I'se(sp?) encounter last night.


That's more like it.

Yes, we did it on a couch. He does not have a bed in his room. His room is ghetto fab. The couch in his room (and in his living room) is a stolen couch from some hotel party thrown a few years back. How he and his friends managed to steal four fucking couches, is beyond me. But they did it. And oh, how my lower back pains me because of the compromising positions he had me in on that bad boy. Sheesh!

Anyway, GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY WAS THAT SOME GOOD LOVIN'! Lemme tell ya somethin. Puerto Rican men got it goin' on! Aye, chico! Me gusta mucho papi, mas, mas, mas!

I'm glad, I did it. I had sex with him, it was AMAZING, and now I can as Black Girl( shout out to Tanya, I don't know if you want folks knowin' your real name, but big ups to you, just 'cause, I dunno I like you) say, I reconciled with that shit(that shit being his winky woo) and now am ready to move the fuck on. Yeah right Negra, if you were ready to move on, you wouldn't have even accepted his phone calls, let alone let him stick his baby dispenser in you. That may be true. I knew last night when I went to get some, that that's all I wanted. I know he's slept with other girls since the last time he and I had been together, and I was okay with that. He ain't my man, and I don't want him to be. I needed a booty call, and he's the only one I know right now who would give me some. I'm sure there are countless other men of there who would tap, but I need to know them, establish a relationship with them, and then sleep with them. I don't have anyone right now that meets those requirements. I have one, but he lives about 2 hours away from me. Actually, after last night, I think the next time I put out, it will be to him, and not to J.R.

And here is a list of a few reasons that La Negra Linda has to let go entirely.

1) Last night he snorted Meth.

What more needs to be said about this? Yeah, exactly.

2) He told me (before I went to his house) that he was driving and hit a family of cats( a mother and two babies)

That's how you know my ass was in heat, because I am the biggest cat lover ever. Which is why I need to be getting as much ass as possible, because it's a known fact that cat lovers die alone, in their house with their 97 cats. He told me he saw limbs flying, and that it didn't bother him. In fact, he did this intentionally.

3) He got his father jumped.

So he's at the gas station, and some crips come up to him, and bang (ask him what gang he's from) on him while his father, 7 month old daughter, and daughter's mother are in the car. He tells them what gang he's from and they jump him. His father tries to help him, and he gets jumped right along with J.R. Nice.

4) Finally, he and his friend robbed a check cashing place earlier that day.

Apparently, he and one of his friends decided they need money. Rather than go to work like you and I would do ( we're suckers working for the man, don'tchaknow), he goes and gets "free money".

Now here's the "logic" (and I don't think the quotation marks give a fair picture of how loosely I use the word) behind his robbing the check cashing place.

He's out on bail( I know, I know), so if he got caught mid theft, he was going to jail. But, if he didn't have the money to pay his ail this month (which he said he had a feeling he wouldn't) he was going to jail anyway and he may as well try. That's just great. Just great.

He thought that I didn't believe him last night. I did. If there's one good thing that can be said about J.R., it's that the boy doesn't lie. Do any way, he showed me the $1000.00 he "came up on". He threw the 50's, and 20's at me and said "I don't be lyin' to you baby. I keeps it real. I'm a real nigga." The irony is that he's Puerto Rican. And no not a BLACK Puerto Rican. Just a regular ole' Puerto Damn Rican.

UPDATE: His little accomplice (well actually the main guy, although J.R. did hold the clerk in a head lock with a gun pointed at his head) got arrested today. Apparently, he tried to jack an old lady for her "chirp" phone. Yeah, I think I'ma leave that dick alone. No really, I am. He just reminded me last night just how much I need to leave that dick alone.

Stay tuned for the next "I done stopped fuckin with this nigga, for real this time!" post. Holler.

Dear "Junior"

Dear J.R.

This is so hard for me to say, to write. You will never read this, nor will I ever tell you (because I will just stop talking you because a) I'm a pussy, and b) you won't understand. Having these talks with you leave you and I both tired.

I love you, but it's over. I can't tell you how much you hurt me.

It's not all your fault, sweetie. I come from a long life of pain. You simply were the straw that broke the camels back.

You know that "permanent smile" you said I always have on my face? Somewhere in my youth, I learned that laughing remedy's misery, smiles treat grief, and trying to love the life you've been given completely heals, and cures torment of any kind.

I love you, but I simply cannot allow you to treat me less than what I'm worth any longer.. Have you ever seen someone with a BMW and it was filthy? That's how I feel. I feel like a dirty 760I.

I love you, but I cannot hurt any longer. It's so bad that I don't laugh as much as I used to. I can't tell a decent joke anymore. My witty comeback's, have been, well, less than witty--when I even make them. I'm loosing who I am as a person, as a result of loving you.

This is certainly not your fault, you never insisted that I fall in love with you, I made the decision to do so. And just like I chose to love you, I'm making the decision to end our relationship ('case I just can't shake the loving you thing just yet. Give me some time, daddy. You'll be outta sight and outta mind in no time).

I love you. But I just found out that I love myself even more. I don't want to hear that selfish shit, either. You love yourself ( and Forty's, and your homeboys, and drugs, etc) more than you love me. The saying goes " A fair exchange ain't no robbery" (ghetto proverbs are the best, yo, I tell ya).

So, while I love you like a transvestite hooker loves Vaseline,I gotta take care of me, and part of taking care of me means, getting rid of you. That sounds awful. I'm not trying to be mean-- wait. You called me a bitch once.

Yea nigga, I'm thu.

One.