If I could undo the traumatic paralysis that held my spirit hostage for 30 years would I do it? I day dream bout it on the regular…

I’ve been thinking heavily on this very same concept…heavy 

Some people have the “i miss my old self” but there was no previous existence of a specimen that existed untainted in my timeline 

I recall the smell of death as animal

carcass littered the fatal trails that could have been our own

The sky filled with blackness as the oil rigs raged with fury as my country crumbled beneath the iron fist of greed 

I’m still waiting for my mother to let go of the death grip on my two year old self  as we drove through the desert with a gas tank filled with faith and tires that had wings 

The scars of surviving a war unseen but yet so deep 

Hamdillah Aala il salaama 

So many years and so many hands… so many breaths that have caressed my numbness without an invitation…

Desperately craving validation…

Food and I got closer and our relationship became a bit toxic…

She wanted me all to herself at all times and to keep it G she’s been the only one ever really there so how could I kick her to the curb now? 

The loneliness has been seeping through my pores but my integrity and loyalty matter…even if Food hasn’t been the greatest friend recently…

The amount of diaries filled with divine pleas to undo what’s been done…some

filled with blood of a 13 year old girl unable to find release…some with blotches of rehab tears…some with annual suicide notes and ps prayers asking God to let me tap out….

I’ve lost myself to the idea that healed meant skinny and skinny meant unabused and unabused meant I would be worthy 

Worthy of the magic life had to offer…the tumbler pics with my squad, being able to read a book with ease and not have the demons keep interrupting my flow because the silence is deafening…. to be able to believe a dude could like me and not Just see the signatures of those who took a turn…

This being that I’ve spent 30 years creating exists in a realm where her and I cannot cohabitate 

The thought of her brings a sparkle to my smile thinking of how dope she is wherever she exists…

When I look in the mirror I’m reminded that each pound has a name and the weight on my spirit has debilitated my ability to ever outgrow the struggle enough to reach her…