“New Year, no New Me..”

 Minutes before the clock struck 12, we were our 2015 selves…

Once the ball drops, things that were once complaints become goals to conquer and past disappointments become erasable in efforts to ring in a “new” lease on life. I get a real high off of clean slates, never do I want to feel like I’m in the same space. I’m guilty of professing the “new year, new me” slogan a few times but you can’t run from the stark reality that no matter how much you convince yourself, most of us are never really over our old selves. In fact we might never be, unless we admit it.

Scouring through the grumblings of the past is not something that feels good to to us so we all get a little comfortable in just sweeping shit under the rug…Whatever looks or feels good at the moment is enough to sever all we could work on to be better…I’ve gone on a tangent or two on my new year resolutions thinking that it’ll re-introduce me to the world as more refined and focused. None of that mattered though because my past still stirred itself emotions that’s pretty hard to shield. The truth is I’m not quite new, at least not yet.

For years I’d sing the tired song about just wanting a boyfriend. With trial and error, the list of dont’s got longer. The manipulative/angry/passive/jealous/dense and intellectually challenged guys didn’t make the cut. When things went south the weight of the failed attempts stayed with me, some more than others.

I got in the habit of taking on disappointments, internalizing the hurt when things didn’t work out. Self-doubt is a bitch, it creeps up, even on the most confident. Something about feeling not enough for a person digs at your soul, stays with you and shapes itself. Or feeling like time was wasted…”what are we and how did we get here?”

It’s only a matter of time that you put your guard up. I get the “you’re difficult” label a lot. I made a vow to myself to never get played again. So when I peep any inclination of game early on, I make it clear I’m not the one.

I thought, Stay woke P…but what happens when a great guy comes a long? Will you recognize it? Will he?

The scars of your past always finds itself in your present.

I’m not ready to be a girlfried/companion/partner…shit is still heavy and I have a lot to hash out… I’m just not ready.

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