Not a damn charity case

Not a damn charity case

I’m not a charity. Don’t treat me as such. I’m an artist just like you. I’m a person just like you. I’m learning just like you. 

So Natural Creativity and Talent… a lot of people get this fucked up. Just because you copied someone else’s work, does not mean you are talented… maybe just skilled at forgery, which makes you a “Fraud”. I’ll come back to this one day. I have plenty to say about this!

Back to what I was saying.

I just don’t think people understand proper communication. I doubt I have a problem with communication because I’m so calculated. I chose the right times to communicate since people get in their feelings so damn quick. I’m like “what the fuck us wrong with YOoUuu?” SMDH

Man… help me God -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter


Diss FunK Shun

Diss FunK Shun

Diss- Bout in tears. I see family members, second cousins, posting pics of my grandfather, cousins, aunts and other family members I’ve never met. Unless you’ve experienced it, you wouldn’t know how it is to feel like an outcast of your own. Same blood running through my veins. The same history. I don’t get people interested in getting to know “the granddaughter” of the man whose first born came into this world a few months after he got married.

Funk- It’s not my fault. I didn’t have anything to do with that! I just want to know my family. NO, I wasn’t raised in privilege. NO, I didn’t graduate from college. NO, I haven’t travelled the world. I don’t have an extremely successful business yet. BUT, I’m making it on my own. And I will be great on my OWN, because I don’t have a choice. I bought my first car, never ask anyone for anything. No one around me has anything I need anyway.

Shun- My own mother doesn’t even follow my facebook. She can’t see anything I post, why is she even my friend on there. Why am I a problem? What is it about me that people run away from? I really don’t get it and I don’t want to do anymore crying. I’ve cried my damn eyes out since I started writing  last year. (you will see why when you read my book).

I try not to care about what people think of me, but I can’t help it sometimes. This shit really hurts. I have the strangest feeling that when I make it, people will blow my phone up and try to break down my door to get to me then. It will be fake though. I’m a genuine person and that won’t be. I may cater to it for a little while to see what  it feels like being loved, appreciated and wanted.

I’ve been DISSed because of a FUNK that I didn’t have anything to do with… Now I’m completely shunned. DAMMNIT WHY??? What if you were in my shoes? How would you want to be treated. Even the woman I’ve lived for, supported, trusted, followed, respected, Loved unconditionally, and worked so hard to make something of myself to buy her whatever she wanted is avoiding me.

I must be some type of fucked up person to deserve this shit. I will never treat anyone like this. I vow to be MYSELF to Change the World. Someone wants me. I guess I just haven’t met them yet. I’m proud of myself. I’m a pretty strong ass person not to have given up already. I just keep pulling myself right along until my change comes, because its coming.

I have to finish this book!!!!

I have to finish this book!!!!

Everyone has had a broken heart, I guess. It’s just worse when it’s the person you call father. The news I’ve been hearing lately about him has me very concerned (more like driving me nuts). I’ve tried time after time year after year, and he just makes . It’s like he just doesn’t care about his life anymore. There is nothing I could say to him because he would never listen anyway. So maybe, JUST MAYBE, when I finish this book, he will still have time to bounce back and turn his life completely around. Maybe I can save the father who could care less about me. #Prayforme

-Preacher’s Daughter

And the tears begin to flow…

And the tears begin to flow…

I’ve been crying for days. I wish he would just listen… It will never happen.

I’ve been messed up for years, but no one would really know. Covered it up quite good. I just wanted to have a relationship with my father that I never got. Since I was a little girl it was all about being tough, not being his little princess. I just wanted my daddy. The one who would hold my hand at the park, or tell me how proud he was of me. Tell me how beautiful I was, kiss my forehead and pray with me at bedtime. I cried a lot. I cried myself to sleep a lot. No one knew. I had to be the strong one for my siblings, for my mom. I had to be strong in front of my dad because when he saw a weakness he would irritate it, nag at it, scratch at it, until I fought back. It always ended badly.

As I grew up, I had to put on an armor. Changed my outward to look harder than I actually was. People who knew me when I was younger know how I use to dress. I was a tomboy. Boys clothes, worked out everyday, push ups, sit ups, running, boxing in the mirror. It kept the pain at ease and I had to make sure I was strong enough to fight my dad back.

I watched how he treated my brothers. One was the Favorite, the other was not. My mother and I would try to take up for him, but Dad was too overpowering. He never listened. It was always “his way”. His way was horrible. I prayed all the time that this would end. EVERYTHING WOULD END. It didn’t. It just got worse…