I’ve been through this before, but I can’t begin to tell you how it ends. You don’t know and I don’t know. So why should we pretend? I thought that we were friends. But nothing from nothing leaves nothing. And nothing is what I have left to give. Blue painted walls with a slightly slanted picture frame. That’s how it feels, in a sense so literal. MJ addiction. No pain no gain. Every jump shot is pivotal. Supportive like Pippen, but looking crazy as her long stockings. My heart has given its all. I’m barely breathing, and divine intervention is insurance on the stumble and fall.

I’m not perfect; I’m not reaching for that. But I’ve got to be the best version of me. The struggle’s always worth it. And I believe that. I’m trying and striving for the planting of my own seeds. The rain is back now, and I don’t want them washing away. I hope they grow to see the cultivation implemented today. I want their walls to be painted with every color there is. The frames of their pictures will probably always hang straight. I want their minds to be free, and their hearts to be happy. Never fearing; their privileges won’t be at stake.

It’s funny to feel what I know. It feels funny to know what I’m saying. All my life I’ve been settling a perfect score. All my life I’ve been weathering the perfect storm. All my life I sold seashells by the seashore. But what I need to do is set sail today.