Love me unconditionally.
Take me as I am, but realize and respect who I’m growing to be.
Accept me with all my flaws.
Work with me, not against me.
Lift me up, don’t drag me down.
Push me to do better.
Inspire me to be better.
Motivate me to live better.
Be willing to to grow with me.
Be my biggest fan, my biggest supporter.
Recognize I have a past, but I’m looking to build a future.
Understand that I know I’m not always right, despite arguing that I am.
Take control, but don’t think your’re going to walk over me.
Make me your equal.
Respect my views and opinions.
Put me in my place when I deserve it.
Don’t play games.
Tell me you love me.
Send me morning texts.
Text me throughout the day.
Write me a cute little love note.
Take me on a date.
Spend Friday night with me.
Call me, just to hear my voice.
Buy me gifts, just because.
Match my fly.
Have some culture.
Have some class.
Display an adequate level of intelligence.
Be able to hang with the classy… And the trashy.
Don’t be so high strung.
Live a little.
Keep me on my toes.
Have some spontaneous fun with me.
Take me somewhere I’ve never been.
Let’s go on a road trip.
Spend the weekend with me.
Let’s do everything.
Let’s do nothing.
Keep the spark alive.
Put me first.
Be a lover.
Be a friend.
Introduce me to your family and friends.
Treat my heart with the utmost care.
Hold my hand.
Hold me tight when we’re cuddling.
Give me a masage after a long day.
Don’t lie to me.
Tell me the truth, even when it hurts.
Allow me some space when I need it.
Make me want no one else but you.
Be the only one I want to call.
Open up to me.
Let me in.
Let me be the one you want.
Let me be the one you need.
Allow me to love you.
Understand, no matter what, I love you.
I do what I wanna do
I say what I wanna say
When I feel, and I…
Look in the mirror and know I’m there
With my hands in the air
I’m proud to say yeah
Hmm… Where do I begin?
First and Foremost, I must give thanks to my Lord and Savior, for He is my sole means of survival, the provider of all my blessings, tangible or otherwise. I probably would’ve been lost if I didn’t have my faith.
Well… I am lost… And I’m fervently trying to find my way out.
What is this life I’m living? Why am I living it? Is this really the path that was carved out for me?
Mediocrity… Depression… Heartbreak… Borderline Poverty… That’s the hand I’m being dealt?!?
It’s so fucking much.
I just want to be great. I know I’m destined for greatness. I can feel it. But why is it not happening? Better yet, why I can’t I truly see it for myself?
I ponder this question every waking moment: What do people see in me? What is so great about me?
Okay… I’ve been told I’m attractive, cute, sexy even. Intelligent. Full of potential. Talented. Funny and witty complete with a razor-sharp tongue (I get it from my momma). All this may be true, but I honestly don’t feel it. And I’m not being humble.
I don’t. I don’t see it. As much as I want greatness. Recognition. Fame even. I don’t see it.
Well, it’s real. Honest. True.
Here’s the raw truth: I don’t love myself.
Brings me to tears every time that thought runs across my mind. It’s painful. But it’s a realization of mine. Something perhaps I didn’t want to admit to myself before recent times.It’s the root of damn near everything that’s bringing me down. And I want to break free. Rid myself of this disease. It’s been killing everything that has come my way.
My first relationship. My first true love. The only man that has had my heart in his hands. Gone.
It wasn’t his fault.
He says it wasn’t my fault. But it was.
He fell in love with a cold, heartless bitch who couldn’t let go and allow love to prevail. He alone couldn’t fix that. It’s not something he should have to fix. So, he’s gone.
As much as it hurts to say this… As much as my heart and soul has been hurting… I don’t blame him.
He deserves what I can’t give him right now. The best. The best of me. Love. True, unconditional.
And while I’d hope that we could be together again someday, and be the envy of all unions, I don’t expect him to wait for me. That would be quite selfish.
To you: I wish you the best. I still love you, no matter what. We may have had to stop building our mansion for other more pertinent matters in our lives. But if it’s meant to be, we will come back to it. And it will be grand.
Damn. Even hurts to say that. I wish I could press on in a split second. But I feel I’d be telling myself I never loved him.
Can’t even even listen to all the great music I have because it makes me think about it…
Miguel’s “Do You” and “The Thrill”… Hell, that whole album.
Until then, it’s M.I.A. and Kendrick Lamar until I can shake the sadness. I’ll put my music on ice along with my heart until further notice.
Speaking of Kendrick Lamar. There is a God.
Besides being told I look like him (I beg to differ. Don’t get me wrong, he is attractive and all, but I look like me… Although I did like the “you look like Frank Ocean” compliments. Weird, I know. But I digress), I’ve become quickly addicted to his music. It started out with Backseat Freestyle- in which he wrote from the mindset of him when he was 16- and Poetic Justic. But the real gem to me? Real.
It’s my therapy. It soothes me. Forces me to think clearly and critically. Put shit in perspective. I can hear it speaking to me even when I’m not listening to it.
I’m real. I’m real. I’m really really real.
I must share Verse 1.
I promise that I know you very well
Your eyes never lie even if they tell
Sweet lullabies that come with a smell
Of a dozen roses flippin’ down the green hill
You living in a world that come with Plan B
Cause Plan A never really a guarantee
And Plan C never could say just what it was
And your plans only can pan around love
You love him, you love them, you love here
You love so much, you love when love hurts
You love red bottom and gold they say queen
You love handbag on the waist of your jean
You love French tip and trip that pay for
You love bank slip that tell you we paid more
You love a good hand whenever the card dealt
But what love got to do with it when you don’t love yourself
Song speaks volumes. People should marinate on what he’s saying, the message he’s trying to convey. But I’ll focus on me.
This song. This verse especially. It’s me. It’s so true. Painfully true.
Don’t get me wrong. I like shopping. I like nice things. Labels. Looking good. Being fresh at all times. But it’s a temporary high. A quick fix. A substitute for what I’ve been needing in my life… What I should be adorning myself with at all times.
That can’t cure me. Nor can a relationship.
Closing the curtains and exiting stage left won’t do shit either. Except for get me in deep trouble with our great director (God for those who don’t get what I’m alluding to).
Not that I would do that. Crossed my mind a few times before. Sorry mom, I lied.
I may be down. But I refuse to be out. I have so much to look forward to. 2013 is really my year. I can feel it. It’s all within my grasp.
I’m going back to school. 30 more credits!!!
I’m in the process of creating my first shoe. Not quite what I typically design, but the design is all me! Let’s hope these engineers can make their idea a reality. Speaking of which, I have sketches to knock out. Procrastination I tell you.
My first car. Technically not my first (Fay, daddy still misses you), but the first I pay for with my own money. Might not be something worth attention, oogling, or speculation about the driver. But it’ll be all mine.
Brandy. Erykah Badu. Beyonce. Rihanna. Wale. The Roots. French Montana maybe. Possibly even Trinidad James. I’m determined to be at ALL the concerts.
A tattoo or 3… Hmm…
I’m going shirtless. Miami ‘12 was a fluke. I’m not holding my stomach in at the beach and the pool anymore. This body is going on display- the top half at least. Superficial yes, but it’s a dream that I want to make a reality.
Love. Well, that’s not on the plate anymore. Love of self excluded.
I can’t say what’s next. But dammit I’m determined to get everything I want. Everything I put my mind to. I’m getting it.
No more pity parties.
To the point I should hate everything I do love
Should I hate living my life inside the club
Should I hate her for watching me for that reason
Should I hate him for telling me that I’m season
Should I hate them for telling me ball out
Should I hate street credibility I’m talkin’ bout
Hatin’ all money, power, respect in my will
Or hating the fact none of that shit make me real
Better days are ahead of me.
I’m holding on to that.
That, and my faith and belief that God is showing me the way out this dark tunnel I’ve been in.
I can and will overcome this.
Joey’s Thoughts on New Year’s Eve…
My thoughts on the fuckery.
Your position on that lovely couch reflects where you are in my mind and on the show.
RIGHT ON THE FENCE.
Kandi, I love you. I like that you try to get along with everybody and remain neutral. But bitch you are a true fence rider. And it’s honestly starting to get on my last fucking nerve.
You’ll sit there with NeNe and talk shit about Kim and Sheree. Then you’ll run back and talk shit about NeNe with Sheree and Phaedra. GIRL.
That position is tired. It’s 2O11/2O12. Time to pick and choose. No more gray areas. Brightside or Darkside. Figure it the fuck out.
I downloaded the album. Didn’t really listen to it, but it was cute. Come harder though. Might be time to call the Xscape girls and get a reunion album going.
I’m excited to see this toy line as well.
But it’s time to pick a side. Because they’ll end up both rejecting you.
P.S. Your mom felt disrespected by the stipper. I bet if that dick was filling up her ancient box she would’ve sucked his dick at your party.
Wig owners rejoice!
You certainly do wigs a justice…
You seem to be in a better place now. You and Kroy look great together. Add to them your daughters (Brielle… she’s the oldest right… Fuck it, that bitch needs to come to earth… It’s about that time she stop living off you like a brat and start doing shit for herself) and the baby boy, you guys look like a truly happy family.
I’m glad you’re past the drama, The Big Poppas, The NeNes, The Songs (Tardy for the Party was cute, but baby just give up the singing. I mean you put more effort into smoking than you do singing). That’s wassup.
Now tell Sweetie to make me some juice and to give me a shiatsu massage.
Beeeeeeeeeyiiiiitttttcchhh, we need to go shopping together!
I love the bags. I love the shoes. I love the cars.
You give me life.
I love how resilient you are. You manage to keep shit going and flowing like the Brazilian tracks in your head.
This seems like a tough time for you. I know you really don’t want to go through getting that child support, but GET THEM COINS. Bob ugly ass isn’t doing shit with it. He need to get some surgery on that ogre ass face and get some clothes, but if he not going to do that, then clean his ass out. You had his babies and he’s not supporting them?!? Girl go after his ass.
As far as your friendship with NeNe, don’t worry about her. She’s headed down a dark path.
Get them coins!
When you first stepped on the scene, I was a bit leery of you. I think it was because I was drinking the NeNe juice. But that quickly got old.
I fucking love you.
You are everything. You kinda remind me of what some of the chicks I went to Howard with will be like when they get older: classy, a bit trashy, but an all around lady. Like I feel like I would be comfortable at a court date with you just as I would be partying with you at Freaknik this Spring Break in Miami (OMG girl we should go together…).
I love your witty slick ass comments about everyone and everything. You are truly hilarious. With yo’ country ass.
BTW, can I get Redickulous’s contact information?!?
You really are a sweet sweet woman. I really love how you maintain your sweetness throughout it all. Such a tall glass of lemonade! But therein lies your flaw.
YOU ARE TOO FUCKING SWEET.
I need you to get a lil spicy. Have some kick!
Like really, you accommodate the hell out of NeNe. The bitch shows up hours late to your man’s opening… You should’ve gotten that bitch together on the spot. She was talking shit about your man… Check that bitch!
As far as your family, I know that’s a tricky situation, but you need to tell your second-rate looking ass sister that Peter is YOUR MAN. Your marriage is YOUR MARRIAGE, not hers. Not your mother’s. If you want to stand by your man and toss him some coins when he needs it, then so be it. It’s not coming out of their purses. That’s what happens in marriages. Do your thing baby.
I’m happy you’re doing well with the modelling agency. Bout time a model train these wannabe bitches out here on what it’s really like.
Fuck it. I’m going to go straight for the jugular.
Linnethia Monique Johnson Leakes.
You know, it kinda hurts me to even go on your ass, because I’ve loved you since the start. A little ratchet. A little bourgeois. Up in the clouds, yet down to earth. I looked forward to you every week. I still do somewhat. You’re a bit of a guilty pleasure. But girl you are just too much.
Honey, when did you become rich?!? Donald Trump certainly did not pay you that much money honey. I mean, yeah you got the plastic surgery and the red bottoms (although honey they might be old because my dad has not produced the styles you wear recently). Yes you got the new $100k Range and the crib (though you can get a fairly big place in Atlanta for nothing). Yes you got your son a whip (I must tell you, CHARGERS ARE HOOD CARS TOO… JUST AS MUCH AS IMPALAS… AND YOU GOT HIM A PRE-OWNED CAR… BANJEE!)
Honey, you are too high in the clouds these days. I mean you do have your lil cheerleader in Cynthia, but honestly no one else cares… You talk about Phaedra… Honey she’s a lawyer. You talk about Kandi… Honey she has Grammys. You talk about Sheree… Honey she carries a Toyota Corolla on her arms and is building a palace. You talk about Kim… Baby she got a baby and just got upgraded again…
You are too full of yourself… You have really gone down if you ask me. All you are is negativity this year. No wonder nobody really likes you. Cynthia, if she wasn’t so scared of your ass, probably wouldn’t like you either.
Idk… You just really irk my soul. You think your are so higher than thou because Donald Trump signed a check. Honey I bet it was only a million, which is like a damn dollar these days (well, not to many, but you get what the fuck I’m saying).
You need some Jesus honey.
P.S. Bitch don’t ever come for a vintage store. Ever.
I’m going to try to be as respectful as possible when I say this, but: BITCH SIT DOWN.
I have always loved you as Aunt Vivian. You were and still are the original Vivian Banks in my heart. The yellow bitch- sweet sweet girl- will never take your place. But miss, you are just going too far.
It has been over 10 years since The Fresh Prince has been on the air, and even longer since you got the fucking boot. But you’re still bitter… And you’re blaming it on Will…
Naturally, I’m riding for him because he’s from Philly, but honestly, YOU ENDED YOUR OWN CAREER. Like really, you were threatened by his goofy ass?!? Throwing tantrums and fits on set, talking shit like being 10 years in the game was big shit… Like you had Oscars, Golden Globes, and Emmys sitting on your shelf… CHILD!
Will was just a young nigga from Philly trying to make it. It’s not his fault he was humbled and kept grinding his way to the top. That’s what that “kid” did girl. You were threatened… Why?!? If you were so big and so experienced, that shouldn’t have mattered to you.
You blame him… But look where he is… Look where everyone else is on that show. They may not be ultra big, but they’re doing SOMETHING. Hell, your former daughter Tatiyana Ali even got a gig (how well it’s doing, idk, but get your TVOne coins sweetie).
You been bitter for the past 20 years. Calm your old dusty, musty ass box. Get over it. You keep crying the same tears. Honestly no one really cares. If the show wasn’t in syndication, no one would remember your ass.
If you need a job, call Tyler Perry. He’s been doing a great job of reviving people’s careers.
Other than that, shut the fuck up. Be lucky they even gave your black ass a chance.