.-*listen to “Hail Mary by 2Pac” while reading this.

I woke up this morning not knowing I would become a killer.

I wake up and it’s still dark in my room. I think it may be 3 something. I look at my phone, 12:32AM. I have a text. But it’s not from who I wish it’s from.

“I miss you”

I go back to sleep. Why can’t the right words ever come out of the right person?
I wake up again. They all tried to warn me about the Texas heat but I laughed it off. I was smart and stupid to come in March to see if this is where I wanted to live. Cool breezes and cloudy, seemed a lot like home in the spring, I didn’t think it could be much different. Now that we are rounding the corner of May, I am waking up sticky and irritable. 5 something I guess. 5:28AM. I may as well start my routine.

I lay in bed for an hour grunting, tossing from side to side. My little dance to the universe like the ungrateful child I am wanting more sleep only to be even more sluggish throughout the day if I do get it. I always say good morning to the creator, because I was given energy to wake up this morning, what a blessing. I try to just listen for an hour. Anything I am suppose to do just be silent and listen, make myself a servant. This morning I heard go to youtube, I went, a tarot reading for Leo. I keep asking my creator is this evil? I don’t have a bad gut feeling so I keep listening. It’s funny how the universe gives signs wherever you ask for them. You just have to believe.

So I have no idea why the urge to go lay on the crappy cheap Walmart foam mattress I got when I first moved in and just had laying on the floor, I moved into the guest bedroom for if any of my friends come and stay with me. Well, I just go in there and lay on it and I am laying there listening to this Tarot reading telling me that the most recent person I have been dealing with is in love with me and they are lying to themselves about their feelings so I am like all into this reading and all of a sudden there’s a scurry in my peripheral vision. I jerk my head to the right and freeze like in a kung fu movie. The enemy freezes as well. I am staring at a roach about 6 inches long you gosh dang right everything is bigger in Texas. All of a sudden I start SCREAMING. It was like a feminine instinct. I didn’t even decide to. I know the biological reason is probably so a man can hear the scream and come to the rescue BUT GUESS WHAT?! Ain’t no man came to my rescue so run to the kitchen, grab the roach spray, run back, and I am just trying to drown this bitch in chemicals. It’s running faster. In fact, I feel like I am about to die from the spray but it seems to be giving this dude like spinach to Popeye. He’s out of my vision. I run back into the kitchen and get the extra roach traps I had picked up to replace the old ones in 3 weeks and I said FORGET IT. I am gonna have these babies all around this joint. I do not care. I rather be roach free than judgement free. So I have about 12 of these traps in my arms and some open caulk roach killer food to line the cracks because I bet you anything they are coming in through that closet because it’s next to the neighbor. I keep my place so immaculate I bleach the drains, the floors, the counters. Hell, I scrub the floors on my hands and knees and when I first moved in I checked everywhere and laid traps everywhere. I HATE BUGS. I am whining and crying walking back to set more and more traps and then, there I see it, crawling across the other side of the mattress. I scream again and all of the traps go flying into the air. I instantly think to myself this ain’t no ordinary roach. This a mutant roach. This a bad dangerous dang roach. I need a weapon that will annihilate this muhfucka.


I bolt to my room grab the thickest chancla I have, rush back to the room, THE SUCKER IS GONE.

I am like dang this is a ninja roach. He must have been trained by Walker Texas Ranger himself. I lift up the bed, nothing. I look in the closet, nothing. I look all around, nothing. disappeared.

I think to myself, What would Bruce Lee do if he was fighting a roach forged in the fiery pits of Mordor?

I stand there and I don’t move. I calm my breathing, I stand very still.
I see the scurries underneath the vacuum cleaner cord, I rush over, I fling the vacuum cleaner aside and with all the force and anger of not being called for 8 days by your lover and no texts snaps youtube links nothing, not a notification for 3 days I put that anger and force that into the whack of this vile bug. As I am whacking for some reason I scream “HIIIIII YAH!!!!! Like I use to in karate. Hahahahahahah He crunches underneath me. A relief settles over me.

Then a guilt. I have just ended a life. Who am I? How dare I? Why do I get to make that call?

So, I must go on trial. I documented the scene of the crime. I submit the murder weapons for evidence.

Isn’t it funny that I did not feel a ping of guilt about laying a trap for them to take back to their entire nest and kill the whole family because I didn’t have to witness it? But now that I have to use my own hands to do so, now, all of a sudden I feel guilt?

Maybe I only don’t like roaches because they are ugly. What’s the difference between a roach and a cat? Or a dog? You feed them, clean up their poop, they pee everywhere. Pets love you back? I am sure roaches love whomever provides their food. More food than I can even eat is provided to me. Why can I not share with the roaches?



.-*listen to “SUGAR – BROCKHAMPTON” while reading this.

I am very intelligent. This is not something I like to be common knowledge. The dumber you seem, the more trustworthy you are because people don’t think you have the capacity to do certain things. Think smart, play dumb. I am sure someone has already said that. Someone has already said everything I can or ever would say, but they ain’t never said it in my accent and that’s what makes my experience beautiful. I am getting so many beautiful ideas. I am learning so many lessons about myself. Some days, I wake up so ugly. And I am ugly the whole day. And I don’t know where my spirit went in the night or what it was fighting but it left my mind and body exhausted all day. Just worn out, beat to death, ready for rest.

And other days, I wake up with the sun in my hair, fire on my lips, a yearning for love in my belly and magic in my eyes.

I know that I could be of great influence I am only getting more and more powerful. But I am very afraid of the battles I will have to fight in the near future.

They look to the screens like they are gods. Like they provide the sun and the moon and hang the stars. They blindly follow loud voices threatening with muscles. I turn my screens off. I go to the trees and the grass and I whisper prayers into their leaves. I know Creator hears me and he will send the soldiers soon. I try to show love. But what exactly is my business? I must keep myself safe. But I will say spells in my head, protection over situations that I see that don’t sit right with my soul. These glowing things they have all of our attention, our spines curling in a bow to this hand held god. And we worship. And we allow our mood to be set by the amount of attention we do or do not get. I am not impressive. I am not anything of any circumstance. I am. How can anyone think they are of any importance and not a cockroach crawling and taking what it claims is his? We don’t even know what humans ARE. We could be the portrayed consciousness of a purple blood cell in an alien. You could be imagining these words in a dream and your entire experience is just figments of a carefully engineered software which is just a login to the energy source of imagination that you think belongs to you but really it’s just a server like google. You have no idea what’s real so how can you say what’s right? And how can you define what’s love? How could you know what you know?

No, you only feel what you feel. And think what you think. That’s all that makes sense. The vibe.

I am desperately trying to let go of control. It’s crazy that letting go is also a muscle. And you have to work it out. I have been holding onto so much unforgiveness to men that have hurt me. I am letting that all go. I feel like I can straighten my back a little more.

The thing about love, it’s all about free will. If free will does not exist than love cannot either. I have tried in my past to do so many manipulative games to try and control whether or not someone falls in love with me. Now, I just simply am myself. And if they come, they come, they stay, they stay. And I will know that its true love. And they will give me room to grow and explore and experience. I will forever be on this journey to knowing myself and seeking my creator and the purpose of my creation. And I will try things, and I will fail and I will try new things. I need time and patience from a lover. A cool hand Luke. Quick draw but only when absolutely necessary.

I cannot wait to speak philosophy with my Sagittarius son. I must conceive March 2021 So I have roughly a year to find a lover. I want him to be strong, protective, provider, intellectual, open minded, lets me be the roaming lioness I am. But I also want him to be very strict when it comes to raising our boy. I know he will be wild like me. I prefer a fire sign but I will also settle for a Libra. Libra’s are my most compatible mate. I think that’s why I got along with kookie so well. I love him and his dark skin like the kookie of the Oreo. He’s about that sweet. Every time we were together we danced. He likes to party too much to be a candidate tho. I think Walk would be a good candidate but I am not sure I want to live that LA life yet. I don’t think I am glamorous enough I love the country too much. Getting my hards dirty and four wheelers and drinking a beer by a bonfire. And he wants a woman to be more like a trophy. And I am more like a wannabe comedian I make everything into a joke because that’s how my father is. And I love being like my father. I am an asshole. I am not a girly girl. I am a daddy’s girl. And I like fishing and playing catch and getting lost in the woods.

Nobody told me it was going to rain this much in Houston.
Sometimes my life feels like a blessing.
Sometimes my life feels like a punishment.
I guess I should look at it more like a lesson

I really hope all the hearts I broke forgive me.

.-*listen to LIKE I WANT YOU by “Giveon” while reading this.*

I was dreaming about Sweet Dee all last night. I woke up with my back aching and stiff. The song on my shuffle comes on and it’s “She Think” by Buddy & Kid Jamz. Basically it’s about a “bad bitch” that thinks she loves the rapper because he makes sweet love to her, he is rich, blah blah. He goes on to say that she works for Nasa and she’s very educated and the baddest, so bad that the NBA pays her rent. I keep thinking maybe the reason I can’t keep a man is because I can’t work for NASA and the NBA probably wouldn’t even give me a free ticket to a game, let alone pay my rent. I am just regular. And to me, that’s the biggest nightmare I have ever had. I don’t understand why he just ghosted me? Was it because I sent him 35 pictures in a row? Was it because this quarantine is making me crazier than usual? I was suppose to meet him in Arizona and that got shot to shit because of this stupid virus. But I was going to fly home for Easter and he just ghosted. AFTER he told me to come home. I don’t understand. And now I am wishing I was the kind of girl that gets called to the VIP at exclusive clubs. But I have bunions. I have NEVER had a flat stomach even as a fat baby. I never got to be HOT. I only ever got to be regular. And I guess I am not complaining. I just wish I was some guy’s dream. Because these girls will be nameless in 100 years. They will only be known if someone is listening to rap from today in 100 years and thinks about the one girl a rapper banged. I wish to be a household name like Emily Dickenson. My poetry inspiring love making, art making, thought making, change making. When will the man come that will see my heart without me having to cut it out of my chest and dissect it for him? I am so tired of not being loved by a man.

The beauty of being loved by a man, protected by a man. I wanted it to be Sweet Dee so badly. He has such a beautiful heart. I don’t understand why he would treat me like this? Why he would wait until weeks after I left to abandon me? I really hope he is ok. I know this virus has taken a toll that no one can even comprehend for our first responders. I say little prayers for him throughout the day.

Today marks one month I have been in Texas. It’s getting hotter. I can’t believe what I have survived the the last month. I thank G for strength. I have no idea how I am even coping. But it’s amazing how resilient the human spirit is.

I am so down today. I am extremely emotional. I wonder, because I am ovulating today if maybe that has anything to do with it? I don’t even know what I am sad about because usually every day I can just get over it. But certain days, it feels so overwhelming. I just feel like I NEED A MAN so desperately. But this feeling will pass. I am like the cat in heat. Howling at the moon. But I do not want to. I rather be alone than be with just any man that hears my cry. I was at the laundry mat yesterday and this dark skinned dude with dreads was staring at me the whole time. He was in a Range Rover and in between cycles I would go to my car to smoke and nap in the sun. He kept going to his car too. I was in a sundress with a sports bra on. Can you imagine how trashy I looked? With slides that didn’t match my dress and my hair probably 3 days dirty. And he pulled up to my truck while I was sunbathing and I just ignored him. So he pulls off then turns around and I turned my music UP. And then he started honking. So I just raised up, looked him dead in his eye, shook my head “no” and laid back and turned the music up more. Like here I am crying over this man who is across the country and this other man is doing the absolute most to get my attention. And this is my dilemma. I may talk a lot of shit about being fat and regular and blah blah but I honestly see myself as more than the life I am living right now. I cannot settle for this. I imagine a life for myself that others would not even be able to comprehend. I do not want fame or fortune, although they will come. I want influence. But I am afraid of what comes with that. I am a good soul. I want to change this generation where we are afraid to EVEN TOUCH EACH OTHER. If they isolate us, they control us. If they have our attention IN OUR PHONES, ON OUR TVs, they control us. Even the music influences. Be careful what you consume. What you consume, you will produce and put back into the universe. That’s how this works. Consume negative thoughts, negative reports, produce toxic energy, expel toxic waste. Watch. Listen. learn.

I consume love, I reproduce love, I give love.

I still pray for forgiveness from all of those I have trespassed against. In ways knowingly and unknowingly. Sometimes I am selfish and only think of my own feelings. I act irrationally with a short temper. I am a bully and a monster when I am hurt. And I get hurt too often because I am so sensitive.

I wish to improve.

.-*listen to High Fashion by “Roddy Ricch” while reading this*

My father always use to say to me, “there are no atheists in a foxhole.” I never knew what the hell he was talking about. Until I crashed my car into the back of a flatbed trailer semi and my head almost came off my shoulders which would have landed in the backseat. Could you imagine that big ole melon coming clean off because of a crazy series of coincidences. And there, I saw God. Blood dripping down my nose, the light flashing in my eyes. Red white and blue flashing all around me. 6 men strapping you to a stretcher is better than buckling you into a casket. I changed my entire life after that. Dedicated myself to making my life better. I backslid soooooo many times. Forgetting my goal, my purpose, losing motivation. Now, the world is ending and I ran away to Texas. I already saw death. I am hard to kill.

Aren’t prayers just spells? What exactly is the difference? Witches don’t believe that they are the source of magic. Neither do prophets. Oracles. We are messengers. Vessels, servants.

I don’t believe in the domestication of animals. I think that domesticated animals are just spirits from other worlds influencing humans. But I am so lonely that I saw a cat crossing my courtyard and I became so excited. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I do love animals that I was just scarred by the time my father made me give away my kitten. Or the time we came home and my dog was laying dead in the road. Or the drunk asshole that hit my other dog right in front of me when I was bringing my sister home from a high school dance. And she’s sobbing in her evening gown. My heart hurts now just thinking about it. The scene of my father and brothers digging the grave of the family dog of the decade. The pain of the memories of the dog you grew up with.

Maybe I let that callus me a little. Are we all not just trying to survive? How do we not let these things numb us? We try so hard not to feel the pain, but then, where does all of that pain go? Yelling at your wife? Hitting your kids? Harming yourself? When we don’t communicate our pain, it WILL find another way out. This is life, these are cycles. How many diseases are caused by repression of emotion? I will never regret telling people how I feel about them. I rather have expressed myself and completely humiliated myself than to live a false self, secrets at every turn swallowing you whole, decaying your sense of self so deeply that you become a toxic breeding ground for emotional viruses.

I still think cats are aliens. But any friend I can get right now is a blessing. Even an alien one. I feel very alone out here. Today is Easter and it’s so gloomy. I came here for the sun. Now, everyone tells me how much Houston floods. I guess I knew that but I didn’t realize that. What’s happening in Houston? I think it’s some kind of prank the Universe is pulling on me that I move across the country to start a new life and the entire world shuts down. No fun for me. Whats that quote? “Gods laughing while you’re making plans” or something? Another theory is that I am living in the Truman show and my ex is orchestrating this whole thing to make me miserable for leaving him. Nothing is how I expected it to be or wished it to be. But I will be grateful nonetheless.

I can see now why Torrean was so hard on me. He wanted me to be excellent. Because when you’re excellent, you don’t accept mediocrity. I wish he would forgive me.

.-*listen to Wicked Games by “Chris Isaak” while reading this*

I think I finally understand why “witchcraft” is “bad.” You’re using the laws that God set in place to perform your own will. And thus, the creation has taken the love and adoration and thought itself to become more important than the Creator. We all have magic capable inside of us. But it all comes from an ever flowing energy, we are JUST conductors. We can create, but only in our realm. Yet we think our plans for the future are more important than the greater Energy, and we try to force our plan. We complain when our plan is not going the way we want. Instead of enjoying what has been provided for us. I will be grateful this day that I have never starved to death. I will be grateful today that as the little sparrow is provided a beautiful nest, a worm, and a purpose, so shall I.

Still haven’t heard from Sweet Dee. Part of me wants to be understanding and think about what he’s going through in this trying time. He is a soldier. He must protect the kingdom. But what about love? Should I wait for him? How deep is the love? After only 2 months knowing each other. MERE 2 months. But he showed me more affection in those two months than Torrean showed me in 2 years. But it was different circumstances and different factors that went into play. I love them both so deliciously. I think of Sweet Dee like I think of bonfires when the summer is threatening to turn fall and you’ve been swimming all day and the sun took just as much life out of you that you took from it. And he is warm while the breeze chills your damp hair, so you burrow into him because he is strong and he makes you feel safe. He’s like s’mores with his graham cracker skin, toasty brown, hard chocolate, gooey marshmallow melting all over your tongue, lips and fingers. Wishing to curl next to him and sleep away the overdose of sugar. My sugar, sweet fire, tongue ablaze burning me, consuming me, igniting me with flames of desire. Why must you torture me so? What have a done to push you away? But more importantly what can I do to make you come back to me?

I need you.

“OH SHIT! Is that my barbecue pit getting rained on??”

This morning I woke up at 4:04 AM. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sweet Dee. I had to cancel my trip back home to see him because I just had a feeling. Do you ever just have a feeling? The energy is off with him. I should have left him on block. I have to stop looking back into Sodem before I turn into a pillar of salt. I rather turn my lover into stone. Hard and strong. I am longing desperately for his perfect pink lips on mine. The soundtrack to my tragedy is Texas rain. And like they say, everything is bigger including the raindrops. I wish they would drown all my memories of his love away. I cried all the way home because the storm was rolling in blowing trash all over the freeway. I have never seen the wind so strong and fierce throwing tree branches and leaves and dust just encompassing my car. I was terrified and I wanted to call him so badly and I knew he wouldn’t answer and that just welled Texas raindrop Tears from my eyes and I didn’t know what was shaking my car worse, the storm outside or the storm that was happening inside of me bursting forth. I just kept thinking, “what did I do wrong?” And how do I always seem to mess up every single time I try to have a relationship. But I realize that I am just being myself. And If being yourself messes up how someone feels about you, then you don’t want to be with that person to begin with.

Watching the storm I just kept thinking about God and how I spent so many years arguing and deliberating with him about what his name was. I am learning so much more about God. How he doesn’t like to be ignored. We share this in common. Everything today was going wrong. I woke up way too early. Had a terrible migraine. Had diarrhea. My wet hair pressed to the front of my left breast right at nipple level so it looked like I was leaking milk. On lunch, I dropped buffalo sauce all over my pants. I set my lemonade in my cupholder and my AirPod stuck thru the bottom so it flooded my cupholder which was holding my weed and my AirPods… obviously both were ruined. Then, the storm. I think it’s because God told me to make it right with Torrean and I keep putting it off. I know that I owe him an apology for everything but I just want to send him a copy of my book so he can understand the depths of the pain he caused me and I feel like he wouldn’t even require an apology. But I think I hurt him very badly too. And I want to make it right. I just wish I knew how. I miss him so much as my friend and I allowed my feelings to block that friendship and that will forever be my biggest regret. I hope one day I could find the words to make him understand how much he always has and will mean to me. It hurts my heart that I can’t talk to him like a normal conversation. It just gets to aggressive when all I ever wanted was to try and make him understand me.

I started my new job today. I had a bad attitude going in, judging from where I have been and the things I accomplished to my current role. I was looking down on it like I was better. But if I were better, would I be NEEDING a job from them? Pride comes prancing before the hardest falls. Like I said, interesting day. So I just wanted to Thank God for the blessing of employment at this trying time. I want to thank him for everything he provided and placed in my way. I want to thank him for my safety and the safety of my family. I want to thank him for softening the hearts of kings so that they can do the right thing even when it’s hard. I want to thank him for his healing and restoration to the beautiful hearts that I have hurt, the hearts in my community that are hurting, and all the hearts hurting across the universe. Please bring restoration, clarity, WHITE LIGHT, healing magic. Healing art. Healing love making. Healing conversations. Healing family times. HEALING. Cleanses come before the healing so it may hurt NOW. But that healing is coming and making me stronger and Creator, I thank you for that as well. Let me bless as I am blessed and love as I am loved.

Your Servant

Pride.-*listen to Same Ol’ Mistakes by “Rihanna” while reading this.* or anything by Rihanna because she’s the best.

S1 E3 “Pride”

Medusa groggily opens her eyes, someone is calling her. It’s 3:33 AM. The witching hour, minute and all. She wonders what this person could possibly be needing in the middle of the night? Her lover, Sweet Dee, is still blocked on her phone, the name comes up as private so it would only make sense that it was him. A ping of regret shocks her like a handshake gag. It could be an emergency since it’s so late. She doesn’t want to answer. And anyways, she is not the one he would call in case of an emergency. He is the one to call for emergencies. She knows why he’s calling. He’s sick. Sick missing her. He was probably dreaming about her and woke from the dream to the empty bed, or even worse, the girl he’s so desperately trying to replace her with. She can’t be the harmony in lips of an angel any more. She wants a man all to herself.

Great, now’s she’s got to thinking, she can’t fall back asleep. She looks down at her pudgy belly. The fact that she can grab herself by the fistfuls make her just a little more sad. What perfect mixture of a woman does it take to keep a man? What happened to her ingredients when she was being made? She exclaims to the emptiness, “Siri, play some music” She’s tempting her neighbor to approach her with complaints. See loves to see how far she can push men. Desperado by Rihanna blares over her apartment sound system. She wants to make love. She has a slew of men she could call, she can download bumble which is like window shopping for dick dolls. So many to choose from. All fucking bonkers. She misses Sweet Dee so desperately but she can’t be weak. This is a test for them both. She is thankful that her source is not a man. That she is sufficient. So that way she can know that if her feelings for him are because of HIM or the position he holds and what he represents. If she enjoys who he is or just a man playing a role in her life? Could another man easily stand in? Her thoughts go straight to him each time like an addict. Like her when there is chocolate anywhere in the house. It will consume her until she folds into desire.

She gets up and starts to pace. It’s a bit muggy out of her blankets. Skin starting to barely stick to her loose too big t shirt. That’s all she liked to sleep in. Oh, the wild dreams she would have when she slept without panties. She leans over to light her candle, her bare skin starting to dance in the light of it. She wonders to herself why anyone else can never witness her in these tiny glimpses of her being beautiful. Hair, wild from sleep, breasts and lips plump from rest, eyes like sapphire dancing in the flames. A true wonder. Her phone starts to ring again. She answers. It’s not Sweet Dee… It’s Torrean. There’s panic in his voice. She feels like her heart is going to explode.


I’ve made up my mind a million times about love. And changed it shortly thereafter. We hinder love a lot because of fear. When we are children, we know nothing of the world except our world that’s in front of us; what sweet bliss. As we grow older we learn that there are experiences outside of ourselves, we start to care for others and step into their universe. As a child when something you enjoyed was happening, you got excited. You jumped up and down, you danced, you laughed. Nothing hindered you. Now, your fear of the moment ending, loss of control, judgement from others, unrequited love, all of these things hinder you from fully experiencing love.

I want to let myself go in love. I find it so interesting that everyone thinks they have control. Drive to the Colorado Rockies in the middle of an ice storm and get out of your car with a t shirt and booty shorts on and just look up at the sky in the middle of the trees. YOU HAVE NO CONTROL. And what a blessing. The world doesn’t stop turning at your breath. Yet, you try to make people bow to you. Why? Why this desire for power? fear. I am afraid that if I care, I love, I want, I desire, that I am weak. You knowing how I feel only gives you power to hurt me. I must let go. I must recognize my own strength. I must give in to love, to let love lead the way. It’s crazy how much I run from the voice of God and try to distract myself from what it’s telling me by getting caught up in trying to figure out it’s name or gender or race or religion lol. It’s like I’m playing guess who with God. Mystery date lol. WHY? The voice remains just the same. Like I said, collective consciousness. So, I share a mind with it. The light, and the dark. Where does my balance come from? Listening to the voice and the teaching. Trying to be useful, allowing my talents to reach others. And trying to keep from causing men to sin. No longer being the siren, but being the servant.

I miss him so desperately. All I want to do is call him. If I could just hear his voice. He’s just gotten off work a little bit ago. I can imagine him, fresh out of the shower, beads of water decorating his beautiful Carmel skin. Him looking up at me after he pulls on boxers and giving me that side smile with those juicy lips. I could kiss him until the cows come home and I ain’t got no cows. That boy does something to me and opens me up like a damn rose. I am in love and I don’t see why I have to pretend that I am not incredibly just smitten with this man? I am like a kid when daddy comes home, running to the door screaming and jumping. I want to be with him all the time every second of every day just being in his presence. I don’t know why I continue to just throw my entire heart into things. He pulls back from me and I don’t know if I have the energy after that last heartbreak to go after him.

Blocked.-*listen to Hair Down by “SiR” while reading this.*

S1 E2 “Blocked”

Medusa sits up from her sofa as her trainer breaks the conference call for lunch. She is relieved for a break but not so much hungry. She rather write since she didn’t get a chance to this morning because she was busy doing her makeup to put on a show for her present audience. She picks up her phone and begins a voice memo to herself that will probably never see the light of day.

“So, I blocked him. I had to. I had unfriended him on snapchat and I lost my nerve and added him back, (which is why I always have guys add me because then you can remove them and add them without them realizing. That way if they pop up in your “best friends” and you don’t want the agony of having to see the fact that they are your highest snapped person and you don’t have the confirmation of the mutual love with the yellow heart that turns to red after two weeks then you can just remove them as a friend and add them back and they won’t be in your “best friends” anymore. You’re welcome ;o)

What I was talking about to my sister this morning, I was looking in the mirror and I finally understood. I GOT IT. The reason people say “you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else isn’t because you have to accept yourself or learn how to deal with yourself or whatever. It’s because of what I was saying before about us all being a collective consciousness and the universe splitting us into a thousand pieces all embodying the energy of the collective whole. But we get caught up in the importance of our own energy that we become selfish and try to monopolize all the power. The power in the relationships, the power in the communities, countries, the world. If we don’t first LOVE OURSELVES, we are not grateful for what the universe has provided which is a vessel to embody this consciousness. If we don’t love it, we are not grateful, then we do not take care of it. Our bodies are our own ecosystem. What happens when you allow garbage in your ecosystem? Pollution, toxic relationships, toxic friendships, gossip, complaining, etc. But if you love yourself, you take care of yourself. You create cycles and routines for yourself. You practice self care. And then, the universe will grant you more access to another person’s universe to begin to help take care and cultivate their universe. But you should only join together if you are on the same level of caring as them. If they cannot keep up with maintaining and cultivating relationships with their own friends and family members, how can they possibly cultivate healthy sustainable relationships with you? Watch how often they check in with family, how much they listen to their mother or father? How much they share with them? Is everything a secret? Do they put on a personality in front of them that completely differs from their daily personality? Is everything an act? One boy made a comment one time about how my socks were the cleanest socks he had ever seen in his life. And that’s the thing about me, You can see the outside, you may see my dumpy apartment in the ghetto, you may see my old shoes that I wear every single day. But my things are well taken care of. Because I look at them as a blessing that has been provided to me as tools that were gifted to make my life easier by the Creator. I am always giving the artist praise for their great work. And guess what? That makes the Artist want to give me more. Stronger lead roles. Because I appreciate what is given. And that’s why I had to let the Spartan go. He is a warrior so he is war minded. All is fair in love and war but love and war are not fair. He must focus on what’s important now. We are only distractions for each other. He makes me want to run back to Chicago every other moment just to touch him or kill him. But he ignores me then posts on snapchat he’s driving me crazy. So, I lay it down, the power over me is only from the artist. Not from my lover, not from my circumstances, what I see in the world today. My help comes from the Creator. My sufficiency is in them. So lover, know your place and be here nestled next to me. Be not Adam losing your way with words stuck in your throat like the apple. And I be not Eve wandering to snakes for advice because I want knowledge and attention. Can we just lay naked in Eden together living our days sucking juice from the gifted fruit, making love in the shade of paradise? Why must you play these power games and devil tricks? JUST LOVE ME.”

Medusa hears her class start to reassemble at their computers after the lunch break. She wipes the tears from her eyes, Takes a tissues and dabs her running makeup, Smiles widely and turns back on her computer camera.

Triggered. -*listen to Nights In White Satin by ”The Moody Blues” while reading this.*


S1 E1 “Ignored”

Opening: Medusa laying on bed in apartment. She has no television, so she must create her own drama. She is triggered by this quarantine because her law enforcement father had raised her in a corn field secluded from society being homeschooled.

She meanders around her apartment all day, messing things so she can kill time cleaning them.

She dances to Controlla by Drake playing on repeat for literally hours straight. She is just like her grandmother

Cut to downstairs neighbor being in love with her but his girlfriend PISSED all the time cuz the same song on repeat.

She tries to dance but she has half white girl rhythm. She enjoys island music the best. She loves being on the beach. There’s some kind of magical spell that comes over her when she’s at a bonfire on the beach. It’s like sex the whole night, nature making sweet love to you, lighting you on fire then calming you down with sweet ocean mist, only to rise you back up to wild flame with one gust of wind.

That’s how he feels, like a beach bonfire. Sweet Aries bastard.

She can’t stop thinking about him. She sent him a bunch of sexy memories on her snap only to realize that it was 35 messages, So now he will wake up to so many notifications thinking they are texts. She rushes to delete them out of snap only to realize she looks even crazier because now he sees that many notifications and sees deleted and thinks she probably had text in there the entire time. She checks her story, He didn’t check the last pictures. The only picture he saw was her first post of the day which was the love letter she wrote about him. Great, She scared him off. Oh well, that only means that he couldn’t handle her like she thought he could.

BUT… what if it’s just because he’s been working crazy hours since this disaster. Being a hero is always an all consuming responsibility. SHE WANTS TO BE HIS PEACE. So how can she calm her own storm? She starts to dance again. Practicing for the next time she will be dancing for him. For the way she will seduce him and create their own universe in which there is no pain, no crime, no virus, no worry. Only sweet love like honey, soft, slow, sticky, HOT.

She grabs a fistful of her thick thighs she squeezes, almost hard, and shakes vigorously. Thinking about him always puts her in the craziest mood. Agony, anger, angst, longing. She wishes she could climb into his lap. She falls in and out of sleep, candle full at first then shoot to 3/4 burnt away.

She looks it’s now 3:23 AM and she has an awful feeling. She knows she just needs to hear his voice and it will calm her. She knows he could soothe her fear. He will be up, he’s working. She calls, no answer. Doesn’t he know how scared she is? She can’t call her daddy anymore, he’s getting old and she doesn’t want to wake him and worry him. Doesn’t he understand how badly she needs someone that will always answer her call? Because she only calls when she absolutely has to?

She’s a good girl, She’s crazy, but when she’s crazy about YOU, man, you don’t have anything else in the world to worry about. She will move the heavens and the earth for you. He just doesn’t know her yet. He will understand, she just has to be patient. She talks herself back to sleep, tears in eyes.

She wakes in the morning, 5 something. She isn’t sleeping for shit. She punches her firm brand new mattress and it barely budges. It’s so stiff she wonders if that’s whats keeping her up. She puts the turquoise teapot on. grunts, trying to stretch awake. Check phone, no notifications. She’s tempted to call someone else. She’s tempted to post the video she made of herself dancing, booty looking like a plump peach ready to be bitten. She wants revenge for being ignored. Being ignored reminds her of her father. He always had something better to do. But is this comfortable for her? Because she can convince herself that he’s out there saving the world and thinking about her? She’s more of a Cat Woman or Poison Ivy than a Louise Lane. She wanted to be wild and rebel just to see his reaction.

She knows the only reason she behaves with him when she hasn’t with anyone else is because the only thing she fears is God and the badge. That’s it. More respect for the General than the king. She always has. And He is the fiercest soldier. Hard body, Hard face. Pure. sex. god. She starts to rub her thighs again. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING?????? 11:11 AM. He’s asleep. They live in two different worlds. Why wouldn’t he call her back if he was just working? It takes 20 seconds. Wasn’t he wondering why she was up? Is he not concerned about her in a strange city by herself? Does he even care at all? She posts a sexy picture to snapchat. She lets an hour go by, she regrets it. Does he really not want her anymore because she cares deeply for him? What is wrong with the world today that pure deep true love is a threat to someone and not a blessing? She doesn’t want to hurt him but he is hurting her. She needs attention and she doesn’t know how to tell him that. He must know. He has to know. He doesn’t care.

She lays back on her bed and tries to touch herself. logs online. Nothing is turning her on. She starts to think about his smile, his strong arms, the first time they went to see a movie and his big arms wrapped around her, she sunk into him so deep and felt so safe. She felt something cold and hard, his gun and badge, wet. She let the memory intoxicate the air and her patience grew. How long must she wait? It felt torturous.