No More Charity Pu$$y.

There’s power in not being fearful. Loving openly and completely is the only way to experience security in the rawness of this emotion. I live my life raw. I write my blogs from raw places, about raw experiences. Therefore, I am secure enough to love.

I used to burn my mind in circles wondering who was secure enough to love me? Who has the balls?

It’s true that a woman scorned may be a dangerous one, but a wise woman is terrifying indeed.

In my most obnoxious of follies, I’d covered the weak in my love. I’d answered their calls and repeatedly complained about the feelings of disappointment I was experiencing. And start up my car, and head off to feed the hungry. With no security for themselves, the weak ravished mine. They stuffed their egos like the bellies of starving children. Then vomited in my face.

All along, I’d believed my intelligence was obvious and glaringly deserving. I’d told myself that loaning my security was love. I’d desired love so badly…

I’d desired LOVE soooo badly that common sense became past tense. My late nights and early mornings in undergrad surely had earned me adoration from a  partner. I had definitely earned loyalty and respect for my moral standing. If I were to be rewarded for anything, it would have been for going toe to toe with seasonal depression every year, WISHING for somebody to hold me down. Why, then did all these things prime me to be desecrated by those red-nosed fools?? Why did love make a fool outta me?

Am I not the living image of God? Are I not a lover of those undeserving and spiritually blind? Am I not likening myself  to the most prized characteristic of the Creator, love? I am indeed the embodiment of traditional values highlighted by black feminism. Duality by a textbook standard.

Is it self-loathing to believe that love’s rejection is the yin of love’s force?

Even God is selfless. By our nature, humans are oblivious to the magnificence of our circumstances. God’s love and security have never left me, but I have left God. I have determined my own laws and truly marched to the beat of my own drum. Always drumming up a solution, an experience, a rapture.

Funny enough, they say that letting go of your desire for something is the path to achievement. In clearing the space for romantic love, do I simultaneously become selfish? Is my selflessness a sign of too much control over the outcomes in my life? Am I trying to be God in the not-for-profit practice of giving love to the weak-hearted?

While these questions pester me, I am certainly clear on one thing. The doors to this charity pussy shall remain closed. For I am no longer secure enough to love.