As I get older, I’m starting to learn that although I feel as if Shame wasn’t supposed to have been the one to let me down, I pray that it will be last time I let some nigga break into my heart. Hell, I’ve broken hearts my damn self, and I now know the feeling isn’t good when you think you truly love someone.
I’ve fought with my best friends. I have even blamed other mothafuckas for my mishaps, which have only given me a reason to become stronger. But why does it hurt to lose someone you love? I can never seem to get that through my head. Ugh!
Yemya
Slamming my journal shut, I let out a sigh of frustration. I feel the need to vent, to scream, to at least do something to clear up this confusion that so happens to have become a burden on my back.
I glance at my phone; Beyonce’s “Ring the Alarm” indicates that I have a text message. Part of me couldn’t care less who sent the text. As the tone continues to play, I sing the words loudly.
Call me!
It was a message from Shame. After weeks of us breaking up and days of me not talking to him, this nigga still wants to hit me up. I am unsure if calling him is something I want to do. I clearly call myself moving on now that I have found me a new boo thing. At least that’s what I would like for it to be. It’s just a mere thought. Shame and Hustle are two different people. I just haven’t begun to give Hustle the time of day. I’m unsure of his motives, but I still want him to stick around. I still want to figure him out. He seems different, and I like everything about him, from his swag, to his age difference … I mean Hustle could be it! But I know that he is a single nigga and single niggas do single nigga things, which is why I can deal and chill and wait for him to come around. Until then, I love this new mentality of mines. Besides, I will always have a story to tell …
A Lover's Mentality Page 12