I’ve said it all already. I think the time has finally come. There are no words left that I haven’t already said to describe the multitude of ways I am so bad at love.

Bad at love? Is that what it is? Or is it more of a being bad at the part that comes after the love. Love is easy, if you’ve found the right person. Showing love, feeling love… you can’t beat that. Its the part after, when you have to trust, have patience, be easy to love yourself.

Trust? Is trust the right word? I feel like whats missing is trust, but I’m not mistrusting their actions. I can’t trust their intentions. Tell me they love me and I act like they don’t.

Is my confidence so shaken? Is the concept of someone genuinely liking who I am so difficult to grasp that I so consistently deny it? And then push them away. I push them away with my paranoia.

It happens every time. And still, so much experience but an inability to find any more words.


“Make good choices”

A solid piece of advice said daily in my household growing up. This phrase left a vail of guilt whenever I was up to no good. Buying alcohol from the cab driver in town, smoking with the older boys…My mothers voice singingly saying her go to phrase played like song on repeat in the forefront of my mind.

“It is just as easy to fall in love with someone rich as it is someone who is poor”

Now, this one sounds bad.  I ain’t saying she a gold digger, but she don’t want her girls messing with no broke….person. It sounds bad, I know it sounds bad. At this point in our lives, she will deny ever saying this. But the meaning behind it makes sense. My mom didn’t go to college. She had a high school degree and little life experience when her husband died. She struggled to keep food on the table, working all day, maintaining her household at night. Leaving us wanting for nothing. But I remember the stress growing up worrying about losing our house. I remember seeing the stress in her face when the oil bill would come. I witnessed her sacrifice every shred of luxury she could have had to provide for her family, alone.

When my mom said we should love someone with money, she wasn’t saying we should lose sight of love. She just warned us of the fear that comes with a life of instability. Money can’t by happiness, but I can promise you that you wont be happy sitting in a house without food or heat, stressing about eviction. To this day when asked what I find most attractive in a significant other, I say motivation without hesitation. My mother didn’t raise me to be a gold digger, but she raised me to see the value in hard work.