Wicked Game

“If we don’t have trust, we have nothing.”- Beck

A concept incomprehensible to the honey haired prince, who would one day blossom into a king, ruling over his dominion with compassion and light. My hero, setting me free from the plantation, that try as I might I could not abscond. The darkness I endured there could not be believed, nor discussed since I signed settlement papers.

This was no chance encounter, it was our second time meeting, but this time we sat for hours. I didn’t want him to go, so I tried coaxing him into continuing the night. Respectfully he declines, elucidating a 7am call time the following morning. A supermodel radiating grace; even off camera, in candid moments possessing a poise and fluency of his being. He promised to come back the next day, he didn’t and by the time he did I’d vanished. His appearance setting off a chain of events that led me to karmic justice.

When it was confirmed that he had indeed returned in search of me, I messaged him incessantly. Indebted in gratitude towards him, I wanted to tell him everything. However, something went wrong and the honey hair prince abhorred me. No matter what, he wouldn’t give me the time of day. It hurt, but I understood he was manipulated with misinformation. On my end seeing him again infected my conscious, making me feel disloyal to my false twin flame. Still just like our first encounter, I couldn’t get him out of my head. The mere thought of his contempt towards me was unbearable, so I tracked him down based on a photo of his fire escape (my brain operates like Sherlock Holmes) and wrote him a letter.

Eight years his senior, I had the wisdom to see that it would be selfish of me not to let him go. I’m at a different stage in life, his skull isn’t even fully developed. He’s too young for the white picket fence (in my case a brownstone with a library, praise Jesus and it shall be so), dirty diapers and a diamond. I wasn’t ready at his age either, there’s so much life yet to live, lessons yet learned. Still something gnawed at my insides regarding his reaction to it all, he didn’t give me the opportunity to expound my point of view. He let others narrate for me, I would have never done that to him. In recent events this proved to be our dynamic, his first instinct to turn on me in a furor. So for you honey haired prince, who will one day blossom into a king, ruling over your dominion with compassion and light (if he’s lucky, which he is) know this: love without trust, isn’t love at all. Photo: Iprincipito

Standing Still

Shawn Theodore

I didn’t like where I was coming from.

My roommate was a legit psychopath. Not in the everyday misused adjective type of way, but the real deal. Reading through the list of symptoms, she hit every mark, sending a wave of chills through my body. Goosebumps made fear visible. She thrived off sex, drama and literal filth. Dirty tampons, half eaten dinners, pizza boxes, hair extensions, blow dryers, used sex toys, to be pulled off the floor and used again immediately. Let your imagination run wild. Yes that was there too.

I didn’t like where I was going.

No one would let me enhance my service skills, by allowing me to be a server. Except this place. I am so grateful for the opportunity, but this restaurant is a plantation. White men using black spaces. I can’t get through my shift without being inebriated. On top of the drinks the bartender provides, I hide bourbon in my coffee, I hide a flask in my make-up bag. It’s like I’m trying to kill myself before this place kills me. When will I be free?

You are exactly where you need to be.

Says the proverbial universe, but why am I here? Why is god punishing me? The world hates me.

I am at a complete loss, when suddenly the clouds break. Looks like we can have that picnic in the park after all. My roommate gets into legal troubles. She’s screwed over every roommate, except me. I’m her karma. I leave the plantation with reparations.

You were never stuck, you were being rerouted.

Trust the universe it’s wiser than you.