He was a G Chapter 2

”God teaches us to love all and hate no one. He teaches us to seek truth & expose lies and he teaches us to forgive those who do us harm.” –NSpirit On Life

I forgive you.

I’ve always known that my heart and my personality were too big for most, which is why I let few in too deep. So, it comes as no surprise when people who don’t really know me misconstrue my comments or my actions. But when I let someone in, when I give them so much of me—mentally –and they do the same, I would assume (I know, an ass, right?) that they would look a little deeper into my words and actions and understand that, it’s just me—unedited, straight, with no chaser. In real life.

But I was wrong.
I’m hurt a little, and feel betrayed. But I’m thankful, because this situation has made me a little stronger, a little wiser, but a little crazier than I’ve been made out to be. But I’m all good, cause I know that it was never good for me in the first place.

The characters they make of me
I’m a bit extreme. A bit emotional. A bit unedited, and my filter is thin. But I’m no hater, definitely not capable of doing anything too extreme—beyond sending texts that pour my heart into his phone. But they made me out to be “psycho, crazy, hater.”

I’m missing a couple of screws, but none of the above are true. But guess what—with this post, I’m giving you permission to call me what you’d like  cheers! This bottle of Trump is on me, and this, is just how crazy I can be. *hearts*

But I’m remembering our conversations. Like the 2nd night we were together when we were talking about each other’s weaknesses. He said that he didn’t have any—typical.

My weakness:

“Honestly, honesty is my biggest weakness.” But G told me, “It’s a very strong strength.” And he smiled at me.

But now, months down the road after much has happened to make us both lunch out, my “very strong strength” has become the reason for his slander, and ultimately what made me see him for what he truly is—fake.

Comical right?
To a writer, every word matters. Every time I have an opportunity to make an impression, be it over the Internet, through texts, in voice mails, spoken-word CDs, letters or in person—words are important. They have the power to make someone fall in love, to change lives, stop war, end hurt and resurrect pain. Words are important, and the words he said to me—“I love you…I’ll hold you down…I got your back…Stop fakin’ you know I do more for you than I do for any of these bitches…fuck them other bitches, etc.”— in collaboration with his actions, were very important. I held on to each word as if it was a precious piece of jewelry. I remembered everything.

And nothing gets past me…as his cuzzo wrote on Twitter, “John Legend. She don’t have to know.” But I do. So I realize baby, that the way you behaved in the jump off was just an excuse to start shit so that YOU wouldn’t feel guilty about what was going down that night. Cuz you love me so much.

The jump-off
When I drink, I become even more emotional than I am on a normal day. (Yes, this is very unhealthy, and I need to learn to control my feelings and emotional reactions anyway.) But, alcohol—on the one night of the week that I decide to drink—enhances my feelings. I get in my feelings, and he knows this.

So last Sunday, after an incident that really had me stressing, I called him. And called him again. Texted him, and finally, I got upset. Not because he didn’t respond—it was deeper. I began to think about all the times that I needed him, and the excuses that he’d give for why he wasn’t available or couldn’t come thru for me. Yes, there were times when he did—in a big way—but when I looked at our situation, how I am always there for him and how I’m typically treated like I don’t hold the position he said that I did—I got angry.

I texted him. It went something like this:

“Baby, you are never here for me when I need you. I only loved you and you carry me for people who would not have your back the way I have. I’m done. Delete my number.”

That isn’t verbatim; I don’t remember exactly, cause right after I hit “send,” I deleted the message, and every other message from him, his numbers and even his pictures. Then I sat in my car and cried into my hands as my sister rolled a J and her best friend explained why I’m too good for him anyway.

But it still hurt you know. That was the bravest thing I’d ever done in concern to him. Sure, there were times when we both said “we’re done.” But one of us would call or text something like, “Baby I miss you.” And we were right back cool again, bruised, but cool. Our passion and attraction for each other was just that deep. I thought, deep enough to survive words.

But then the next day, a Monday…
…He texted my sister and said, “Tell my bitch I miss her.” That fucked me up. “Bitch.” Yea, he says that word a lot, but all I could remember were all the conversations we had about it. Even two weeks prior, we were in his cousin’s barber shop and he said, “You know you my bitch baby; you know I love you.”
And I bitched. I said, “stop playing, don’t call me your bitch, not in public baby. I’m your lady. We talk the way we do behind closed doors, but do not call me your bitch.” We’d had that conversation time and time again.
So…

That same night, I looked on Twitter and what did I see? An update from him:

“I’m drunk as shit and I miss my bitch. Where’s my baby tell me have you seen her”

Again, I was mad and hurt. I had no intentions on ever calling him again. But the next night he needed someone to talk to, and after I asked him if everything was OK via our Twitterverse, he sends me a direct message on Twitter saying, “Baby can you call me I just need someone to talk to.” Of course I called him. You know I did, and we talked, and it was cool, but awkward for me cause I was still really angry about his words.

On Wednesday night…
A’ friend’ of his got back on Twitter after a long absence. He wrote something like, “The best I ever had is back on Twitter…” I saw it and smiled, honestly, cause it reminded me of the Friday before when he referred to a girl he barely even knew as “the baddest chic on Twitter.” It sounds petty, I know.

But all I could wonder is how could you show me, someone whom you claimed to have the utmost respect for, someone who at one point you said you loved and would hold dow, “ bitch”, yet others get your utmost respect? It hurt cause he disrespected me to my sister, the person whom he knows is most concerned about me when it comes to him.

So me, being extra sarcastic like I am sent him a direct message, saying, “You love to make me happy—first [xxx] is your baddest chic on Twitter then [xxx] is the best you ever had & oh what am I –“a bitch that you miss. Thank you for always keeping it oh so real  Have a nice night, dear –luv u too.”

He begins talking to me on the public timeline, saying how I’m in my feelings and I look to deep into shit. Yes, I am often and was in my feelings, but not because of what he said to them—it’s what he said to me that hurt. And I had not yet had the opportunity to speak to him about it, so his limited Twitter updates were the only form of communication that I had heard from him. Told him that the only thing left on his list is “bitch” and “no thanks…I’ll pass.”

Afterwards, it got ugly. He begin to say how I was hating on this girl, who had absolutely nothing to do with my feelings or why I said that to him. What he said to her was the kicker that made me remember that I’m just his “bitch” at the end of the day.

What hurt the most—even more than him calling me a bitch or a hater was that he put my personal thoughts, texts sent only to him, on the Internet. He knows how I am with words—how my texts to him are unedited, and are truly my feelings as they come from my heart. I felt like he raped me.

Understand something
When I write personal messages, no matter what it is, and especially texts and letters, they are always unedited, unscripted, and unfiltered. It’s my deepest thoughts—my gift. He violated that and it hurt deeper than anything he had ever done. And deeper than the other ‘betrayal’ that he inflicted on us that night.
For a writer, the words that people say matter, and they can hurt, oftentimes more than the physical pain inflicted on flesh.

Still, when I awoke this morning (Thursday) all I could think about was this:

”God teaches us to love all and hate no one. He teaches us to seek truth & expose lies and he teaches us to forgive those who do us harm.”

There is no way I can hate him. There is no way that I can become so bitter as to allow this to eat at my heart. I can only forgive and delete.

I felt like he had raped me, publicly, and took what he knew was a lie and promoted it as if it were true. He is the only person who knows why I’ve done the things with him that I’ve done. He knows my true feelings and my heart. He knows that I’m a deep thinker, a sensitive person who gets offended by words easily. Yet and still he chose to disrespect me. To rape me over the world wide web.

I knew that he was in a situation where alcohol, sex, and probably more were distorting his thought process. But still, it was me—that’s what I thought. Sure we had been going through a lot and we weren’t as close as we once were. But just the night before, I was his “baby.” Now, however, I know that ultimately, in reality, all I ever was, was his “bitch.”


Love,
T-Baby, Handful, Deep in Thought, Nut Job, Bitch