Black Bird

"Why you wanna fly, Blackbird? You ain't ever gonna fly."

For whatever reason, I woke up this morning and watched Beyond The Lights on Netflix. In the beginning, I didn't realize the importance of the opening song - Nina Simone's Blackbird. I continued watching, and it started to become clear. Everything had a meaning. While I sat on my bed, still wrapped in my covers, emotion took over me. I felt just like Noni. No, I've never physically sat on the ledge, but I've been there mentally. There have been days where I've seriously thought about throwing my phone into the Biscayne Bay or somewhere on the rails and walking away from everything in life. Every last thing. It seemed like every time I was close to finding myself and my peace; I'd get lost again. Every single time. Once I'd get comfortable, things would start happening again. I really couldn't figure out why this continued to happen. I know they say that life isn't fair but my goodness! Why did life want me to be stagnant? Why wasn't I allowed to make more moves? Why couldn't I follow my dreams? People who were undeserving and lazy had it so easy yet those like myself had to prove ourselves constantly. I always had to prove my strength. Life wanted to have a never ending pissing contest with me. I needed answers then, and I still need answers now. The only difference between then and now is that I live according to my rules. I do what I want. Time has never been on my side so now; I take advantage as much as possible.

"No place big enough for holding, All the tears you're gonna cry."

There was nothing that could make me happy. I worked non-stop. I had very few days off and put in nearly 300 hours every month. I'd make it a part of my after work routine to stop and get a drink. There was always wine in the fridge and a liquor store close by if something more was needed. I didn't want to go down that road. That was the last thing I needed to add into my life's issues. As often as I could, I'd go out to mingle or see friends. It wasn't getting any better. Not even a little bit. Most days felt like they'd never end. Nights couldn't come soon enough. When night did fall, it was over in 3 blinks. I couldn't escape reality by running to my dreams because my dreams were a direct reflection of my reality. The two were inseparable. Where was my happy place? I questioned every decision that I'd made in the last eight months.

"Your momma's name was Lonely, and your daddy's name was Pain. & they called you Little Sorrow cuz you'll never love again."

I'm almost certain that a lot of my issues have to do with my relationship with my parent. It's been a long, rainy, twisted road with all types of roadblocks, dead ends, tolls and washed out bridges. I can't call it the worst, but it wasn't the best either. On several occasions, we'd go weeks if not months without speaking. I've never done it out of spite, but there's a certain level of responsibility and obligation that a parent has. I was tired of being the grown up. I didn't want to be the person always reaching out as if I had sick and elderly parents. It would have been easier to understand if that was the case, but it wasn't. I'm not sure if it was ego's or pride, but that shit goes out the window when you have a young child. Maybe they were too young to grasp it. Maybe it was a cycle that wasn't looking to bend or break. Instead of me being able to "stay in a child's place," I was forced to be an adult. Having more responsibility was never a big problem for me but why was it mandatory? Why couldn't I just be a regular kid? Picking up the slack and making sure that shit got done was always on my to-do list.

"You ain't got no one to hold you. You ain't got no one to care."

My notebooks have always been my go-to person. Even when I'd talk to a human friend, I'd end up with pen and paper to finish what I started. My pages would never be annoyed with having to be a friend. My notebook would never sigh or roll its eyes. My notebook would never be tired of me. The only way I'd be talking too much was when I ran out of pages. Luckily, I'd have a fresh one on standby. The party continued. Believe it or not but sometimes the person who everyone else runs to needs somebody to run to. On occasion, that backfires. You make an honest attempt to sort your thoughts out, and the person slaps you in the face. Why on Earth (or any other planet) would you make a friend feel like they're a burden? How long ago were you the person who needed somebody? I'll never understand that. No wonder so many people keep things to themselves. Sometimes, we don't want you to say anything. Just listen. I don't want to explode and take my frustrations out on innocent people so writing (or talking) about it can save me from that situation. The day you push someone away while they're on the ledge just may be the day that they jump or better yet, slip because, in their heart and mind, they know that their body doesn't belong there. They need a hand.

"If you'd only understand, Dear. Nobody wants you anywhere."

Personally, it's easier to deal with my issues alone. The day that these pages are no more is possibly the day that life is no more. Not everyone has ill intentions, but some only wish you well enough to pull through but not to move up and on. People want you to do well but not better than them. It's damned if you do and damned if you don't because they'll talk about you at your lowest and highest points. Everybody needs somebody at some point, but I encourage you to be confident and comfortable with yourself. You'll always have your own back. Even when you fuck up, you'll still have your best interest in mind. It doesn't matter where "they" want (or don't want) you to be. Be you. Do you. Do it for you. Your reason is good enough.