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[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

Make Me an Alchemist

Help me turn hesitation into hands

Hands into grenades

Her complaints into contentment

His complacency into care and effort

Let our efforts bear fruit

May that fruit not be strange or bitter

May the extracted seeds plant a new

Family tree of life

Who's leaves neither wither or shrink

Fruit bursting with color and life that maintains in every season

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

I pray that I raise children who never feel the need to smother themselves, to play class clown, to be quieter, to adapt their personalities to preemptively ease tension in rooms, or to move past their discomfort when they finally feel free to show themselves and are met with surprise or confusion. I pray my children never have to grapple with all of the versions of themselves they denied because their mother will have taught them how to be brave, how to be free.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

“Maybe God leaves

stretch marks on women

to direct us home.”

-Jasmine Mans

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

When they say they may move to the United States

I ask why as images of missing twitter posts, sundown towns, and picnics held under swinging bodies flash through my mind

Protests, movements, and neverending hashtags that produce no lasting harvest, no way to sustain a people or existence

Worry lighting up my bones for this stranger, praying that light illuminates what I need him to understand, the things I’m too scared to name, that feel silly to voice as possibilities…until they happen

Hatred for black people, in various shades, is everywhere. I know this. But do they really understand Amerikkkan racism? The insidiousness and betrayal that confounds with every blow? How some hits don’t register until you notice you’re bleeding hours later, while others you see coming from miles away as someone roots your feet in the ground so you can’t dodge no matter how hard you try, how hard you hope.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

On male-female friendships

I always wanna believe men and women can be friends but it feels like a slippery concept to me, feels a bit like swimming in that river in Egypt, never quite able to find your footing on its banks, unsure of boundaries or limits.

In the arms of my girlfriends, I can be playful, gushing, and maybe even overly loving. Male friendships require restraint, hesitancy, holding them just close enough to leave no room for misinterpretation, or restrictions…male friendships struggle to feel like friendships at all unless I can plainly tell that when I love them loudly and boldly, when I praise or try to build them up, I do not want them the way they're used to being wanted. My compliments are not a romantic overture. I don’t even really know how to make such invitations. I only wish to love them. I know no other way to truly be someone’s friend if not to try to make them smile, to try to let them know in small ways that what they contribute by existing is not only enough but everything.

But men are so used to being made everything in the lives of women, accepting it as their due. Which is a lovely way to exist if it was taught to all of us equally. But to be a woman giving a type of everything to a man, even platonically, feels a bit like walking a slippery slope, like wading in turbulent waters.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

The will to move is clawing and kicking at the drawn curtains in my brain. Never quite able to disentangle itself from the all-encompassing, neverending sheets that keep it smothered. How do you fight an enemy you can barely comprehend, one you can only feel but never truly see or understand?

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

don't leave me!

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

“It’s not what you said it’s how you said it and how you said it made me want to crawl into a hole and die”

-a character who has no name or backstory yet

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

I used to be afraid of mediocrity, in life and especially in my writing. But mediocre things get made and supported every day. Readers like me deserve to be able to pull from a broad spectrum of black literature. Works that can exist across the entire 5-star scale. Hopefully anything I do intentionally publish one day is worth at least a 3-star rating but 1) that is subjective and 2) out of my control and 3) not my problem in a way. I’m coming to the conclusion that a writer’s purpose is simply to write as much as they can and let their perfectionism issues be their editor’s problem😂. I’m in the “write terribly if need be” portion of my writing career and that’s perfectly fine.

Ultimate takeaways from this writing challenge: self-acceptance. I am a writer. I enjoy writing, and it’s okay if I’m not the greatest writer…yet. It’s okay to not be perfect at things immediately. Joy will come from witnessing the growth.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

Uses for the 🥹 emoji:

Anything that makes me emotional but in a good way...

-Things that fill me with wistfulness, longing, wonder, and awe at continued evidence of the interconnectedness of people and the universe

-Unexpected moments that spark joy like matching outfits with your friends without any prior planning or communication (bc what are the odds of that?? That's wild🥹✨)

-Seeing evidence of all the good there is in the world like good music, people with immense talent, children/babies who are so incredibly happy to see their parents come home from being gone, small gestures and displays of genuine love between people (romantic or otherwise)

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. I feel like I spent so much of early childhood and young adulthood being afraid to use my voice, either out of fear of saying the wrong thing or not having anything meaningful/impactful to say or sounding dumb. But in doing so I did a great disservice to myself. To communicate, to write, to express yourself is an act of community. It’s the most honest way to engage with the world and connect with others, to let other people know you and what’s on your mind. *Say* what’s on your mind. Be corrected gracefully when you’re wrong. Don’t be afraid to correct others when the time comes. It can be done gently and lovingly despite what others have shown you. And if being corrected by you or having a light shown on how much you might know, what you may unearth, is enough for someone to feel threatened by you or stop liking you? Move on. Your flame burned too bright and too hot for them to handle anyway. The choice as to whether to don the requisite safety gloves remains theirs and is not on you. Life is too short to spend even a second of it snuffing out your flame for anyone’s sake, especially if that person goes by the name of Fear. Love is the dominant, the essential, being you should frame your actions around, loving yourself and loving others, letting your flame burn bright and illuminating the light in others.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

God is not in a hurry.

What's meant for me will be for me.

God is not in a hurry.

There's no need for anxiety.

God is not in a hurry.

I must learn to quell this racing heart inside of me.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

There’s something about walking past a group of men that makes any bravery or self-assurance crawl up the chill that trickled down your spine and seek refuge behind your braids

Your heart briefly takes up residence right next to the swoop in your belly that comes with a missed step and you wonder if the apprehension shows in how you force yourself not to shrink, in the gaze you keep unshakeably on your phone, as if the message you’re now pretending to type is the final skeleton key the world’s been waiting on to unlock world peace

And it crosses your mind that this instinct is unfair, to you and them. For all you know, these are the nicest gentlemen you could ever hope to meet. But for all the unknowns, for all the girls still missing or haunted or just uncounted, your brain demands that you acknowledge its fear

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

Day 25/30: Don’t waste the stories in your life that God intends for the blessing of others!

“There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.” -Zora Neale Hurston

Loool I forgot to come back and actually write whatever I had planned for yesterday, and then I briefly couldn’t figure out where drafts were kept on this app. So let’s just leave this here as a little reminder to self.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

It’s not right to love him, but many things in this world are not right.

[mythoughtsneedtogosomewhere]

Day 24/30:

What If...

She leapt without knowing what would cushion her fall

She didn't look around for others to answer the call

She trusted herself and at the end of it all

She learned she too was ten feet tall and so

She no longer allowed others to make her feel small