Hidden Issues

All I cared about was the way I looked in the mirror and when I could jump my next…bone. Sipping for every occasion, feenin’ for every celebration…spending a lifetime running from inner turmoil and abrasions. Once, I didn’t give a fuck. The way I saw it…I was young. And I’m only getting older…but somebody could’ve told me…to deal with it. Somebody could’ve told me to pack my bags and leave with my shit. Somebody could’ve told me…I’d live a lifetime, victim to my own insecurities. I would’ve told my mom it was alright to end me. I been on one. One wine bottle, I had that drank…popped a pill, got behind the wheel…just to feel that drank. It didn’t matter if I felt that shit…just got tired of my own shit. I been on one. I sat in the parking lot in the absence of the moon but in the presence of my own demons. Tears clouding my eyes, I looked up at the sky and finally said “God, I hate you”. I can’t tell you now if I really meant it….I can’t tell you if I’m really sorry. I just know the same God that wants me to rescue other women doesn’t seem to rescue me. The same God that wants me to uplift everyone else’s insecurity isn’t even there when it’s time to face me. Where is God when my hidden issues lurk in my tears, remain locked away for years, yet bursting love from my beating heart? Where is God when I’m on my bathroom floor, hugging myself, trying not to let Satan get the best of me? Where is God when I’m trying to make the only one my only one? But the voice in my head says, “I don’t trust these niggas…No, you can’t trust these niggas. You not the only one…so jump, so they don’t catch you slippin’” Hidden issues. Smiling in the mirror because I got a fat ass so hey, that’s the only thing that makes me ME…looking at my oval/chinky round eyes, knowing they came nowhere but from the first man that left me. Smiling at the arch in my back when the lady at the gym tells me to do downward facing dog. She must not know, this arch was whipped into this body. I mean…if nothing else works out, I at least had a curvy body. Smiling down at the “A” on my assignment, letting high achievements define me. Hidden issues. But what happens when the pants don’t fit…and you’re facing a closet full of sheer memories? What happens when the body you once treasured is now a vessel of rough cellulite, mixed drinks and good weed? What happens when you wake up and your mind is going crazy? What happens when you fight so hard for a dream the devil no longer wants you to see? What happens when the tables turn…and there you are faced with the darkness that comforts you when you’re lonely? What happens when you’re facing you? What happens when it’s time to face me? What happens when the people that said they’d never leave…do just that…and walk out and leave? What happens when you’re surrounded by so much love…you still feel….lonely? What happened to me? Hidden issues. I been on one. Playing victim to a past that yielded me to constantly running. I told myself I’d rather be lonely to have anybody step on me. I told myself to shut up and to never show any vulnerability. I told myself…I couldn’t love anyone if I can’t even love me. I told myself…to leave. I sit with myself thinking “Damn, you’re fucked up….how long are you going to walk blind, claiming you want to see? How long are you going to be the cause of your own misery? How long are you going to be your own enemy? How long is me going to torture ME?” Hidden issues. No one knows how many tissues I grab when it’s just me. As the ceiling fan turns, I think about the hearts I must’ve broke…and the people I left…lonely. I think about the hypocrite in me. I think about how maybe the problem isn’t them…maybe…just maybe…it’s always been me. For someone to be so smart, for someone to have so much love, for someone to be the sun that other people can’t see…I never once fixed my hidden issues. I never once…fixed me. I just became my own prisoner…and isolated myself to my own solitary confinement silently. Hidden issues. The universe says…no woman is free, if I’m not free. The universe says…I get insecure when I try to suppress the Wild in me. The universe says….my insecurity is ME. The universe says my hidden issue is….me. The universe sometimes though…doesn’t speak back to me. Just like God, it says “Trust Me”…and it’s nowhere to be found when I’m lying awake listening to my heart beat. But it knocks me down like Keri Hilson every time I attempt ….at running. My hidden issues….make me. Lust lies between my heart, greed lies at my feet…and gluttony tears away at my emotions when I just don’t want to face me. But, this is me. These are my hidden issues and take them with these soaked tissues with the tears of sometimes “I don’t even know why I’m crying”. Take every small gesture with care…because my insecurities just want you to accept us. And when you say you love me, know my hidden issues always tell me different. They always cloud my mind and question “What makes me so different?” See, I told myself my first step is to stop placing my hidden issues on people…because the truth the past cannot hurt me. I just race my mind to figure out how to let my hidden issues stop hurting me. How to let my hidden issues stop tossing into another hands my “happy”….how to let my hidden issues stop…trapping me. The truth is…I’m at peace when I live life wild…and I live life abundantly my hidden issues always say “Don’t do this…don’t do that. What will they think? You have to act like a lady?” I don’t do well…when I’m not free. When I could co-exist with my hidden issues, all they seem to do is enclose me. What happens to us? What happens when our hidden issues are the key to us finding our “free” but also the key to living abundantly? What happens to your hidden issues? What happens to me?


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