Black Girl: As Is

Writer. Creator. Shapeshifter.


I was talking about bending things to my will. I was giving you my Imposter Syndrome's origin story.  I fully intended to seduce you. I was going to paint you this beautiful portrait of a brown girl who always felt like she wasn't good enough.  I was going to tell you how I've always loved writing and how "I'm a Writer" still catches in my throat.  I was going to tell you that writing this, for you, is like locking eyes with love in a crowded room.  How it feels for the first time, in a long time, like I am here. Did I tell you guys about the time I came home and found The Lady reading my diary aloud to her friends?  The cackles still echo in my head. That day the ink dried.

Today I started a gig.  It's one of those gigs that requires a drug test, uniform, hours of online training and offers a hefty snitch incentive.  Within two hours, my co-worker had already used the terms "faggot" and "sissy" and some drunk dude had already asked if I was that co-workers mother. Really.  On a positive note, It's expanding my circle, giving me a little freedom and allowing me to practice my smile.  These are good things.  But my knees are pissed and I haven't even told em we have to go back tomorrow.  I am TIRED AS HELL. I want to get back to the story, but I could care less about bending anything but this heating pad around my leg. 

But here I am, carving words into wood..  Here, I take my time.  Here, I do not filter.  Here, I do not hide.   I must come here.  I must look you in the eye.  I will not belittle myself here or hang my head.  I will not mumble underneath my breath.  I've set up a Patreon.   Because this computer is two steps from glory and I basically have to hold my breath to get it to charge.  Because I'm an artist and I think this work has value and while I'm fully aware that I am prosperous and I am totally manifesting wealth, nobody told J.P. Morgan Chase.  They think I'm broke.  They text me everyday to make sure I know they know.  

But mostly, I've set it up because pain gives it to you straight no chaser and I don't know how long my body will hold up. I'm about to start a second gig with uniforms and play money. Shoe money. I might be doing to much, but I have to strike that match.  I know that life is beautiful and I'm so blessed to have this time with The Lady, but Imma need a door or I might push her out of the bed.  Maybe tonight. On that note, I'm totally going to bed.  I have to be corporate tomorrow. If you'd like to become a patron, it'll help keep the ink flowing.