And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. - Anais Nin

It’s been a long winter season in more ways than one.

For starters,

I had my purse ripped off of my shoulder by a young punk who felt entitled to take what’s mine.

I was witness to man getting shot in the chest, twice, at close range, in a confined space.

I was the target of a “hate campaign”, launched by a individual who was/is relentless on pissing and shitting all over my good name for no sound rhyme or reason.

I’ve finally come to FULL grips with the fact that I am the PRIMARY caretaker of an elderly family member who has a severe lung disease, caused from DECADES upon DECADES of smoking. This person is on oxygen (three tanks reside in their home) , but they STILL smoke almost pack a day.

I was forced to move from my home of five years, in the HEIGHT of winter.

I now live in of one of the most unsavory parts of town, worse than anyplace I’ve EVER rested my head. I can’t hardly relax.

I started a new job. And as we all know, even positive transitions can be stressful.

I’m raising a teenage son without any assistance or guidance from his other half.

My face is rounder. My clothes are tighter. I’ve been running around looking a hot ass mess . . .

It is safe to say I am suffering the effects of post traumatic stress of the ghetto and life in general.

This chain of newly occurring/reoccurring events lead me to the realization that I am not immune to the fuckery, fakery and all around madness of society. I definitely got a friendly reminder that in general, when reality strikes, you can lay down and die a slow death of misery . . . or bounce back and keep striving. Either way, nobody gives a damn what you do, not really.

Why?

Because we are all busy starring in our own movie.

Further more, because I AM a fair minded person with a soul, a conscious and very perceptive to the enviorment around me - I am that much more susceptible to the wrath of negative minds and spirits. Being unique and eye-catching has benefits, but it also has its curses. It may sound cocky, but I swear on 3 oxygen tanks, I came out the womb shining. And for that reason, I will always be noticed - which is all fine and dandy when I’ve got my swagger in tact. But not so much fun when tragedy strikes and the joke is on me.

So yeah, I be going through it, mang. Honestly, not much about my situation has changed. Except one thing: I REFUSE to throw in the towel. Sure, I may retreat to a corner to lick my wounds and a give the world a much deserved middle finger - but damnit - when it’s all said and done, I’ve gotta step up out of the shadows and radiate. I gotta, gotta, gotta keep fighting the good fight. I gotta do it for you . . . and most importantly, myself.

With that being said.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I was born at the dawn of spring for a reason . . . to represent the the rebirth and renewal of things once faded. It’s time to water my roots and bloom.

Today, I will listen to jazz and play it as loudly as I want to . . .

Angelique Kingsbury
March 26th, 2007

my girlfriends lent shoulders of support
my sister came through with the white zinfindael (to stop them nerves from rattling)
i even took a puff offa someones nasty ass cigarette
my son hugged me and told me he loves me

but

who is here to hold me?
where are those big strong arms of reassurance?
where is the bass?

you know what . . .?

this is a big fat FUCK YOU to alla of my ex-lovers
whom i probably i tried to love in some form or fashion.

when you see me next time (cuz you always do . . . and just can’t wait to chop it up w/ me - verbally)
spare me the reminiscing of how sweet it was to be loved by me
i already know that

you aint my friend either
so stop acting like i’m still the homegirl

if i were, you would be here . . .

bastards

(yeah, i made it a plural)

it’s alright
i’ll feel better in the morning
& surely enough, i’ll go back to thinking less about strong arms, honey suckle kisses and male comfort . . .

once again, it will be more about me and the additional layer of “strong beige women” i’ve just wrapped myself up in.

goodnight

Kanye West is a fool . . .