I don’t know how to be open anymore. I would like to be, but spiritually, it’s exhausting. I’ve done it already, and it turned out to be a waste of my time. The thought of tapping into the parts of me that made me who I am and explaining its relevancy appears to be redundantly pointless. Moreover, it’s unfortunate that the blame lies with the person who broke my heart. I can’t even tell who is worth it anymore; honestly, I don’t even feel like I am at times. Though, it would be beautiful to find someone who will leave me breathless and look at me with their eyes screaming “ I would never hurt you, I’ve been hurt too, we can help to heal one another finally, but you have to trust me.” I remember what love was like, but I was also in love with a lie. I want to put my guard down; I want to be vulnerable because damnit I’m tired of maintaining this icy, brick wall around my heart, but I am terrified.
Honestly, deep down, like really deep down, I am still pissed the fuck off. The life I have now is not what I had imagined. I didn’t want to be a single mother, and I still don’t want to be. This shit is hard. Trying to raise a young black queen on my own after being left so broken and disrespected makes me want to ignite from the fury I have inside, but for her, I have to maintain a sane surface. I gave away my heart, mind, soul, and body; emphasis on the body because I carried a child. I’m raging on the inside, but I don’t let it show. I can feel it right now, but I ignore it because I’m not sure how that rage would manifest itself if I release that energy into the universe.
I was three months pregnant when the father of my child cheated on me. I was eight months pregnant when someone else told me the truth and that the woman was five months pregnant.
We had plans for our life together, how we would raise the kids, where we would live. It’s been three years, and until this day, I can’t understand how someone could purposely hurt and betray another human being this way.