The Little Things

Since last night, I have been crying and crying. You can’t even imagine how weak and stupid and dumb and pathetic and simple I feel that I am once again crying over Baby Daddy shit.

Two or three weeks ago, my kids father came home and stayed the week. We had fun, shit felt like old times and just good, like I started getting caught up in the pipe dreams, feeling like things were going back to how they were. Then he left on a Friday and didn’t come home that night, the next night and then around 1am that Saturday turning to Sunday, text me that he was going to a studio. Since then, I have just shut down and retreated from that motherfuckr because THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT.

I am not going to make it easy for a motherfuckr to do what he’s trying to do. He wants everything to be good here, like he can come thru, eat, fuck, play games and then go do him, feeling good inside because he’s got the home shit under control and he can be the man in the streets. I’m not going to help nobody play me because I never wanted a motherfucker coming thru, fucking me and taking my shit and going to do him. I never wanted to be nobody’s baby mama.

I wish it was a way out of this. I just want this to be OVER so bad. I wish all of this away, for something to happen where this whole situation is GONE. I hate the way I’m feeling right now. I’m lonely, I don’t have help with my kids and I don’t know where this is headed, where I am going to end up or what is going to happen.

I keep feeling that he has some woman pregnant too. I wish that bitch a living hell. I wish her misery, heartache, poverty, sadness, death and sorrow. I hope he turns her life into a giant piece of shit and when her baby isn’t a carbon copy of him, I hope he treats her kid the same way he treats my oldest son. I wish that bitch an ocean of tears and never ending drama, confusion and betrayal. Neverending, till the day she dies. And if she ever tries to bring that baby around, I’m ragging her fucking ass on sight. If I’m not there when he does it, my big daughter better handle it for me like I would for her.

I tried to say, I’m doing this so my kids can have their father in their life but goddamn. This dude keeps saying funky shit to my kids, he treats them like an afterthought, he doesnt help, he’s too distracted to guide them, listen when they’re talking or even realize nobody wants to hear about how good he can fight and nobody can beat him ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Nonstop. He’s determined to do dumb shit now so later he can be like “I didn’t know, I was going thru this at that time and thats why things came out all fucked up but you know I’m a great guy.” like then everyone will be like awww, our daddy so crazy.

My kids have as high a standard for other people as they do  for themselves. Nobody is trying to hear that shit. One day he’s going to get a real rude awakening and as soon as I see it coming, I’m going to leave the room.

For myself, I’m getting some pills to numb all this. I can’t handle the heartbreak of such a long relationship ending. Its like when I came here and never saw my grandaunt again and I never saw my people again. My fantasy is that one day this nigga  slips up and confirms my suspicion that he’s a body double for my husband, who was really thrown into Guantanamo by  the forces of evil in 2004 when I didn’t hear from him from April 22nd to June 2nd. Thats when they got him, threw a garbage bag over his head and disappeared him.  He’s fighting for his life, staying strong, not breaking under any torture, wondering everyday what we think happened to him, not knowing they sent Zero here in his place.  My fantasy is that one day Zero slips up and I catch him out there. I wouldn’t even ask no questions after that. I would knife that motherfucker down. There’d be some white pawr! jumping off in here cause I would hack him down into the basement. I would stab his ass till I couldn’t move my hand or broke one of the crossbeams in the ceiling and we went crashing down into the basement. And even then somebody would have to get me off him.

I can’t deal with the failure of my family. To hold shit together, I have to raise my kids by myself, do everything and act friendly with this nigga while he does him, and I can’t do it. I still have my vision for us. The family compound, businesses and all my grandkids and greatgrankids and great great grandkids.  I dream of there one day being so many of us that as I look out over them, I see the Tree of Life.

I picture my heart  glowing like the sun when I look into all the new faces and their old eyes. Thats for us. I don’t see anything for him because I can’t see anything changing or ever trusting him again or any peace. I don’t want to envision being 80 years old with a broken heart. I don’t want this confusion in my life AT ALL, now, let alone in the prime of my life. I just want this to be over. I don’t even tell him when the kids fuck up or do dumb shit because I don’t want him to throw it back in our faces. Him having the keys to our house is like the cops being able to come in here at any time.

I can’t deal with how powerless I feel. I feel like I am just powerless against all the shit in my life I hate.

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