Here’s my first attempt. Just. Trip down memory lane, and currently untitled, enjoy:
I think the worst feeling is becoming
Something that you hate
I fell in love at 17
Even though puberty came late.
Let me take you Back to when I thought love was the stakes:
That it was The thing that you did to make it all worth it and shit…
But that same force that made my mom stay And raise a house full of kids is The same shit that made her a bitch.
Didn’t know what to make of that shit
Just knew the same shit that made me motivated, made me bedridden and lazy
Is The reason I smoke this shit now that makes my thoughts hazy.
Youre the reason college was crazy
Long nights and Red Eyes,
Ran off the plane with red eyes
Just to feel your fingers in my hair.
And to be fair,
I Would’ve fought a million fights for you
And Not only the ones with the girls who fought for you.
But I lost the only fight that even mattered,
and it didn’t even involve you
I lost the one with MYSELF.
But I was a baby I didn’t even know mySELF.
StilI I would’ve given it all to you;
Spent my last dollar just to talk to you.
Might as well have given u the food from my mouth,
Cuz you were taking her out
While I was losing weight sending you money cuz you were in a drought,
Blowing up your phone like man, what is that ABOUT ?
I was just a kid I believed in shit still,
trying to be martyr and a
Scholar Up in Boston on my own, shit I was a freshman still.
Without a jacket, in campus up still
At 3 am, tears frozen on my face
Running through the streets just trying to maintain.
Two seconds from insane,
But the cold numbed the pain,
So i ran down that lane
headphones pounding in my ear,
Trying to drown the fear
That had formed in my soul
While I’m blowing up your phone,
But you were always hard to reach.
So I’m running, and I’m Hoping
my heart might give out right there,
And id be found in those streets.
Cuz you could be anywhere,
Looking back on It, my heart couldn’t take another blow
Love is cool and all but You can’t let it crush your soul
I let it change me.
A couple years down the road you’re ashamed cuz “I ain’t me”
Cuz I’m here years later with thirty calls missed in my phone,
from some niggas swearing that they love me,
And not these hoes.
And you question me, on being hypocritical,
About All that shit I spoke on How having a side bitch is critical
Now I’m sitting here, cynical,
Inbox full, so I’m talking bout how it’s cool cuz I’m grown
That I can no longer be a judge for these men or their hoes.
It’s not heartache that changed me and it sure wasn’t time…
It was The kind of pain that teaches you how to love yourself.
It was the pain that made me change myself .
So that the only time I pick up the phone is for the shit I can handle on my own.
And I’ll love who I love, but that shit comes on it’s own
And then it might go
And tables might turn and bridges might burn and I might be sorry for those calls that seem to miss me.
I know it’s been a little harder to reach me.
Don’t miss me.
You ever wonder if you’re really fucked up?
We go through life and we have all these experiences, many of them really fucked up experiences… you ever wonder how bad these things have fucked you up?
For a chronic optimist like myself it’s almost a curse sometimes. You ever become so good at believing your own bullshit that you start questioning whether you’re just fucked up in the head but no one can really notices? It’s like a catch 22. We all want to seem like we have it all together, like we’re on the right track, and expect to be able to relate to our peers in honest ways. Who is the show for? Why SEEM to be anything? I’m smart, ive realized this, and I can speak well and I can just about convince you the sky is maroon if I wanted to. This day in age I feel like a lot of us are good at that. Sometimes though, I wish I wasn’t so good at it. Sometimes I wish somebody would walk up to me and say hey you look like you’re confused about shit.
I’m not good with open wounds. I don’t believe in them. I’m a chronic optimist, I feel pain, I get over it, and I immediately start counting the ways the pain makes me a better person. I don’t think that’s the way pain works though. I think it fucks with us until we deal with it, all the ugly sick, parts of it: Even the parts that don’t necessarily make us a better person. Pain has a way of fucking you up when you try to act like its not there. You let pain thrive long enough and you’ll forget where it come from and why it’s there. But i assure you, its there. I think that’s the worst part. When you get to the point that you feel like something’s missing and you can’t figure out what it is.
I’m not sure, but I could make a really good case that that feeling means the thing you’re missing is a part of yourself you lost. Somewhere along the line, along the pain, and fucked up relationships and tough times there was something you left behind. Some part of you you couldn’t bare to deal with.
Sometimes with loss we focus on the things or the people we lose as we treck through.. We focus on the job we lost, the opportunity we lost, the person we lost, the love we lost, and forget to cater to the fact these experiences can make us lose parts of ourself: Maybe it’s an ideology you lost a long the way, maybe it was some innocence you lost, maybe you lost something you believed in, or you gave up on a goal, or lost your faith in people, or trust… What I’m saying is, i feel like bad experiences can really pile up when you don’t realize how traumatizing and confusing it could be to lose parts of yourself, and how easy it is to not realize it when you’re busy trying to convince yourself it’ll be alright.
I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to end this in the perfect way. Well, you know what, I have no grand conclusion or philosophical epiphany that came to me. I still feel just as fucked up as I did when I started writing this. And you know what? That’s life. That’s just the way it goes, so this will be as honest as possible. Sometimes I don’t know what it all means, and today I’m okay with that. Today I’m not going to try to make it sound good. After all, if a tree collapses in the middle of a desolate forest and no one is there to hear it crash, did it make a sound? And does it matter? Who cares what something sounds or seems like if it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, what should matter to you is you, and preserving all the parts of yourself that are you, and are honest. that inner voice inside of you is what’s going to get you through the most agonizing moments of your life and when that agony comes along, and it will, you’re gonna really wish that you recognize you when you need yourself the most. Today I don’t care that this doesn’t end in a beautiful way or sound optimistic. This piece of writing is a stream of consciousness, an honest slice of my life. Like you, I’m just trying to figure it all out. I’m still trying to get to know me, even the parts of me I’ve lost.
People act like not caring is something you should be proud of. Like reaching that point is some kind of medal that you get when you get through shit. People act like not giving a fuck is something good, something that makes them better. They wear it like a badge of honor. Like a trophy. Like its hard or or something. Not giving a fuck is the easiest thing in the world. It’s the easiest thing and the worst thing life does to people. Life hurts people and it hurts people till it can’t hurt them anymore. That’s the last thing and the worst thing it does…
"Have you ever been in love? It makes you so vulnerable. [S]omeone can get inside, mess you up. You build up all these defenses, then one stupid person wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you and your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the mind.
It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain
I hate love.”"
- Kanye West