Posts Tagged ‘ Choices ’

Arbitrary life

sometimes,  I feel like I’m suffocating,

like life is so arbitrarily debilitating

breaking down the faucets of defense

it took me decade upon decade to dispense

and condense

into an adequate formation of my true common sense

trying to wiggle and strike

away the grief and strife

only to obtain

wicked strips


from my metaphorical knife

contrived emotions from going through the subjugated motions

that leave no expectations for my actions

or lack of adaption

To my appointed life,

But this is my life, I’ve made choices

Against muted voices.


Stripped and Ripped

Stripped raw



a matter of forefront for choices

and noises

that escape from my lips, leaving burnt tips

of frustration and admiration of the constant, unrelenting, disastrous situations

and wisdom, a criticism of individualism

I’d rather follow not lead, that way I don’t have to think

choices made, eyes closed

no need to feel exposed.

Ripped off

pissed off

jacked off in a jacked up existence

tierd of pretenses, with prefixes of a precarious pre-existence.

Too young, too old

The worst thing than living at home with your mother, is living at home with your mother, and being pregnant. Not only do I have to live with the fact that I’m going to be a single mother, is that I have to live at home with my single mother and hear all the reasons why I shouldn’t keep adding to my own “Shoulda list”. I shoulda stayed with the good man, I shoulda finished college, I shoulda taken that wealthy German on his offer to take me home and treat me like a queen…. Well not the last part, but a Suga Daddy is looking kind of good right now. I’ll admit, I’m getting desperate looking for ways to establish my individuality financially while considering being able to take care of myself and my daughter in everything we may need.

I recently began a vigourous search of earning passive and active income all via the internet (you know since my daughter will be arriving in eight weeks and will probably want all my attention, idk just guessing). My search has come back with a surprising about of information. I honestly found enough information to earn me enough to buy gas for three days, Whopeeeee. Lol Well, I found a lot beyond that too, like Mturk with Amazon (A legitimate way to earn pocket change [MEAN THIS LITERALLY, but I’ve earned about… checking right now…  $27.19 with the ten days I’ve been on Amazon Turk] by taking fun and interesting surveys, making small responses to questions, doing google searches etc.) and creating a blog and adding Adsense to it (this is my second post, if I’m liked this might work out too). Then it went beyond that to making money reviewing music (, making ebooks (still researching but found a like on which helps jumpstart this endeavor as well as where you get a free ebook for joining Pat Flyn’s newsletter) basically theres a wealth of information on side money adventures people can take on. So, I’m trying to get motivated to take some of these on full time and with all my heart. With anything you do and plan to succeed with, you have to use your entire heart, its just plain and simple. If you half ass anything, you’ll get half ass results. I’m trying to go beyond that and actually create a source of income that can financially take care of me and my kicking baby. SO, i need my full heart, but I’m stuck in half-hearted mode unfortunately. But my moms yelling about my internet usage does put me in the mind frame to get the, you know what and you know what, outta here. Which is why I’ve earned myself a little time in a concentration bubble to try to take on one of these endeavors with a focused mind frame of intent. Which will began now. I just thought I’d write a bit of the frustration out. Until the next time

My Beginning

I think about the stories I’ve heard, from my mother, my aunts, my sister and friends, about the moment they found out they were pregnant. Most were in shock, or bubbling with excitement even if their situations weren’t the ideal American Dream. But none ever told me that they were sad, like I was. I considered my options just like everybody else when I found out I was pregnant. I just knew that when I found out I get to create a mini-me in a male or female version, I’d get excited, happy, probably do a few embarrassing dances. I’d even say from time to time I’d feel my uterus give a little jiggle jaggle of joy at the thought of it.

No matter what whacked out mood I’m in, if a child enters a room I want to revert back and just play with them. Children are amazing, their disappointment lasts all of two minutes and their happiness seems to stretch into even the most stressful of situations. But when I found out I was five weeks along, I felt a stab of despair along with a knife twist of fear. I was living with my mother, and the baby’s father was well, you know the guy that you hate to love and love to hate? He was that. I loved it when he touched me and hated when he slept with my roommate. It was that kind of hate/love, if you know what I mean.

There were a lot of valid reasons why I should have gotten an abortion. Actually, there were only reasons. I honestly could not think of one reason to keep my child. My mother was two months behind on the rent, I was drinking a fifth of alcohol within two days (before my pregnancy), my brother was in jail, my sister was in an abusive relationship right next door, and my baby’s father was sending me links to abortion clinics/facts/and procedures. I was unemployed, two years shy of a Bachelor’s degree, and definitely not in my right mind. It wasn’t exactly a no-brainer to the sane that I should abort and move on. But I couldn’t, hell I wouldn’t do it.

The nurse described to me the beginnings of the procedure as I sat in the cold seat of Planned Parenthood and I begin to tear up and asked her to “please just stop!” The days droned on as I tried to figure out what I should do. I began to lie in the middle of the floor, rubbing my stomach, breathing in worry and breathing out contempt, wondering what my little boy or girl would look like. Would she have my light eyes or my dimples? Would he have my mother’s nose and his father’s lips? This thing squirming inside of me would be all mine. It took me the full three months before the procedure wouldn’t be an option to decide. I was going to keep it. I was going to be a single mother. And thats where it all began for me.