acquiesce

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acquiesce [ac·qui·esce / akwēˈes] noun: when you just ain’t got it in you and you wanna be a quitter and set fire to the flame like Adele but you’re a bougie black girl who knows Jesse Williams is EVERYTHING so you have to use words he might tweet to make your soul feel better than it does…and we’re sorta in a drought anyway so playing with fire is frowned upon. #nobodyisfooled #yougotretweetedtho

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hen you remember, again, that time you should have called in sick. But didn’t. Dummy

It wasn’t that bad you’re sick and you feel like your life is over. It actually didn’t sting that much. You kinda knew it, so when you had it confirmed, you were like, well…you do be prophesize’n stuff you know. #TheEye *shrug*

I just didn’t want to. Why? What was the purpose of going out in the world that day? Why can’t you stay in bed and just let life happen for a little while? So I did…and didn’t. I had no desire to put on all that armor so I could navigate my mildly microaggressed life in ways that left me just barely able enough to mend my emotional mess. The armor is far too heavy Lord, and I got like hella sick time, so…*cough*cough* my dude *cough*cough*. Swerve on that work day, sick hours. Swerve on’em.

Remember Morris Chestnut from The Brothers? I get it now. You think you’re doing exactly what you should be doing to get the life you want to have, only to find out doing exactly what you should isn’t what you should be doing at all. Did I confuse you? I know, I told you, it’s crazy up in my axons and dendrites. But remember him? He got to a point where he just decided not. It’s too hard. Too challenging. Like, I’m really bad at this. I must have this sick relationship with failure, because I keep coming back for more. Why would any rational human being, with a superbowl winning streak like the Buffalo Bills in the 90s even think it possible?

Well, I am no rational human being. And I believe in the worst (read: hopelessly hopeful) parts of me that I am going to have this love I’ve fantasized about…or something better than it. This it is not like any of its predecessors.

But if I have learned anything, I know with great certainty, knowledge, and scientific experimentation that a man has to want that it in his own way. Not exactly how you want it, but want in a way that has you chatting often, hugging often, laughing together, wondering about the other, knowing the answers to unasked questions, being able to anticipate next words, and loving that there is someone that knows things about you that you have not gotten the chance to share.

In a moment of carelessness on gchat, we…well, chatted. I figured I was going to be late for work, might as well make it interesting, right? Everything is still so unclear. There is so much I don’t know. I mean, I know the bottom line. But I don’t know the why. Why me? What was it about me to even get to this point?

I think about our conversations, how I feel when I’m around you. The goofiness, the hugs, the chill time, the adventures, the randomness, the running, the weirdness…there is a lot…including me driving everywhere, and you not knowing anything about cars.

I was supposed to tell him what I think about. How I feel…*sigh* nah, I won’t. I acquiesce. That would be too much to do. Just ask another question. You’re on a roll.

Calm and chaotic at the same time. It’s not a bad feeling. You are random but soothing.

Not everyone gets that I exist in these extremes – these opposites. That for every thing I’ve ever felt, I have felt equally its converse with the same intensity and passion. For those who do get it, on their own or with my assistance, they always feel some kind of way about it. And it’s usually a type of way they never say they wish would change – but probably prayed a few times that it would. Unlike him, they might have described it as a bad feeling. Like, not-good-ish feeling. Soothing tho? Soothing? That’s the word you choose?

I do. Yes, those are the words I choose (yooouuuuu baby!!). I acquiesced though. So I can’t. He didn’t ask a question anyway. You did.

…and you also have more sick time.

Swerve on the rest of my work week, sick hours.

Swerve on'em.

This is the end-ish.

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