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Saturday love...

There were Saturday nights where I would drive around Hartford, getting lost, just to convince others that I was out at a party having fun when I was only alone, wanting to cry, and falling asleep with the side of my face pressed against a cold and foggy window. There were Saturday nights where I would visit the local bookstore and search through magazines until the store closed just to convince those that I was outside of my room enjoying life at college. There were Saturday nights where I would search for a remote place to park my car so that I could fall asleep until it was time to go back to my room and act like I just came from a party or a friends. There were Saturday nights where I would pray to god that I could just find one friend. There were Saturday nights were I would have to plan what parking lot I was going to drive to next before someone became too suspicious. There were Saturday nights where I prayed heavily that my roommate would not be in the room. It’s Saturday night, and here I stay. Home, alone, crying for the first time in three years. I HATE SATURDAY NIGHTS; Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays as well.

I’ve been trying so hard to push myself, just so that I could be happy. All I ever wanted from life was a plethora of friends, but for some reason that will never happen. I try to tell myself that I don’t need any friends and that I can do bad all by myself. But it hurts me so much to see a group of people having so much fun together as friends. I have no one hear to laugh with, to study with, to eat with, to dance with, or cry with. I have one phone number of a student who goes here, and I feel as if I becoming a leech. I need a life. I can design my ass off and accumulate a 3.5 GPA, but I can’t make a friend. I can’t hold a conversation with someone because I have no enlighten stories of my college days hanging out with my best friends. I can’t explain to them that I walk around all day hoping someone comes up to me and says Hi, how are you doing. I feel like everyone just looks at me as a cornball. Im not black enough, hood enough, white enough, straight enough or me enough. I cant do this anymore. I just want to go home. I can’t believe I’m crying like this. There’s a party tonight, just outside my dorm, and I don’t want to go because I would have to go alone. My head is hurting and I think my roommate is coming back. Don’t feel sorry for me because it’s only my fault. Bye I have to go walk to my car, there’s a vacant parking lot calling my name.

Please comment...I need it!
Nalij

posted by Liber8Lyph @ 10:32 PM 2 comments

and i'm.....

Beat breakers and Bulgarians
Baraka street creepers and Hungarians
The source is unsanitary
The move to Mt. Zion is in humanitarian
The plunge to clean poverty is part paradox
Cart pushers and stark fairly not
Fairy tales and calm queerly cocked
The oppressor is himself
The mind reflux and reflects its health
The hand rejects and collects the wealth
By polluting minds instead of stealth
Bomb shelters and freedom songs
The story’s been written over by his story songs
Suggesting victorious and glory wrongs
As death resides and morning draws
Beat Breakers and Bulgarians
The street sweepers command again
And I’m …

posted by Liber8Lyph @ 3:17 PM 0 comments

She's a bitch...

She called me last night as I was drunken by my dreams to tell me how much she missed me and wanted to see me and how wrong it was of me to leave her stranded there with some stranger. She confronted me about the break up and the arguments, but she never once said anything about the last time we kissed. Lady K was her name and she had the essence of an Egyptian queen. Slick, swift, and agile, she was. She had a way with words that not even the dictionary could comprehend. Her name was Lady K and she stuck to it. It was hard leaving her because, she made it seem as if we had something going right. She stood by myself when I needed her and stood out of my way when not. She was bold and green in disguise. The break up was horrible. We yelled and cried. We even held each other in the warmth of our arms. Then she whispered in my ear, “I will come back for you when you least need me the most”.
Lady K is back, and heavier than before. Her waistline is growing slightly and her mind is ten times her weight. She’s back to come knock me to the floor and steal my soul. Her name is Lady K a.k.a Karma and word on the street is she’s a bitch.

Nalij

posted by Liber8Lyph @ 1:43 AM 1 comments