Sometimes I want to draw – Sometimes I want to write – Sometimes I want to sing – Sometimes I want to rap – Sometimes I want to paint graffiti – Sometimes I want to paint on bottles – Sometimes I want to be complex – Sometimes I want to be simple – Sometimes I want to wear stilettos – Sometimes I want to wear Jordan’s – Sometimes I want to put on make up – Sometimes I want to play basketball – Sometimes I want to make bread – Sometimes I want to solve a math problem – Sometimes I feel fat – Sometimes I feel like I look aiight – Sometimes I speak proper – Sometimes I speak slang – Sometimes I want to hide from people – Sometimes I want to chill with my homies – Sometimes I’m compassionate – Sometimes I want to chop people in the damn throat – Sometimes I want to talk – Sometimes I just want to listen – Sometimes I want to help people – Sometimes I want to say “figure it the fuck out like I have to” – Sometimes I want to wear feathers and silver – Sometimes I want to wear diamonds and gold – Sometimes I feel I’m below average – Sometimes I feel like an Alien, so alienate myself is what I do #RealShit -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
The dark was my light. It kept me grounded and centered. The darkness quieted the noise of my chaotic life. I didn’t hear my parents fighting or my siblings screaming. The dark was my home. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
Dear Life,I thought you’d be more kind, more loving, more giving. I’ve given my health, my money, my energy, my smiles, my comfort, my time, my creativity. I’ve tried to give you the best part of me, but that got me here, at a crossroad.
I think I’ve been here before. Maybe I’ve been here for years and never left. Maybe when I got here I set up camp and chose to stay. Afraid of choosing the left or right. The red or blue. Both so extreme. Both so different. Both me. One safe and predictable. The other risky and unforeseeable, but intriguing.
I’ve already chosen. I chose my destiny a long time ago. Even when my parents drilled their ideals, I’ve always had my own.
So Life, now that you’ve awakened the dragon inside and I realized the shit I’m go through is just part of the ride, let’s do this shit. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
What I hate the most about writing is the temporary depression paired with I can’t fuckin think straight. Now all I can think about is my past. The fights, the struggles, the religion… growing up too fast.
I have to use my iPhone because my laptop has gone stupid and I need to write when I think about it. I can’t let this stuff stay in. I can’t let it eat away at me until I die or he dies.
Since my father is a reader, at least he use to be, maybe he can digest a book by his daughter better thab listening because he NEVER LISTENED!!!!
It sucks when you have something to say and you never get heard. That’s one of the reasons I write and draw. You can’t be interrupted. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
I’ve been thinking about finishing this book waaaayyyy to much lately. It won’t go away. Out of nowhere, I’ll think about something that’s happened with all the details. Feeling those extreme emotions again. It makes me so damn emotional. When I get in my feelings, I function differently. I had to warn my husband that I started writing again so he will know what’s going on with me.
I’ve written some, but I’m scared to feel that vulnerable again. I feel like I have to steer clear of everyone when I start writing so I won’t make anyone uncomfortable, but maybe this time will be different.
I started writing this damn book in 2015, so it’s been 2 years about the amount of time that’s passed since I last spoke to him. There’s so much he doesn’t know about me. He doesn’t even know who I am. This book would be the only way he would know more of who I really am, rather than the daughter he made up in his head. But that’s not the only reason.
Damnit this book!!!! Shit!!
I started this blog one year ago to change my life. I never intended for this to be an ongoing thing, it just happened. Probably because I can finally get my point across uninterrupted.
I despise telling someone something and they keep cutting me off. Shut up! I have something amazing to say lol.
Now I use WordPress for conversation since I don’t really go out or have a lot of friends to talk to. That’s how the psychos get started right? Hahaha
This blog has been my way out. My way to vent what I really want to say, how I really feel. I don’t care who’s looking because you don’t know who I am… Unless I’ve told you.
It’s not like I’m important anyway. News reporters aren’t trying to find the secret identity of this chick who writes music/poetry, has a small business, and is an artist who’s telling her life in a very emotional way. Who cares.
I just like to get out my feelings. After spending my entire life “keeping my mouth shut” I finally have a voice. I don’t have to keep stuff in and have it fester into sickness and hate and suicidal thoughts. I can get this shit out right here on this Blog and I’m very grateful!!
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.
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
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…