Who what? Well hello there, let me just recap what this #selfconfrontationseries is about and why I am doing it. So I have a lot baggage and skeletons that I walk around with. I have an invisible cloak ok lol. That’s why it’s not obvious to the naked eye. Haha. As Jamaicans would say “Belief kills and belief cures” So don’t believe I got the cloak, so what? Believe I do? Well, you are my kind of people. Just to go off on an obvious tangent to delay expressing my pain. I, Imani Sonya Maxwell, at age 23 still believes in Fairy Godmothers, Guardian Angels, Fairies, Trolls, Magic, Mermaids, Aliens you name it, yup! Even Zombies, witches and vampires. Ummhu. Shamelessly so too. And with Christmas coming around, best believe now that I live in North America I shall be writing my letter to the good ole Saint Nicholas up at the North Pole as I have been nice and I will be baking multigrain cookies and leaving him a glass of Almond/Soy Milk on the table oh, and I won’t forget those carrots. 😁 Of course I have to think about Rudolph and the squad.
Haha, Anyho, Yeah, I live in a fairytale world where dreams come through and magic is real because you know what? it’s so much more blissful than being a realist or pessimist in this “real world”. I make my pain art and I share my traumas for laughs, inspiration and therapy because you know what? there just has to be more to life than what we see with our naked eyes.
I fall in love with men that don’t use words to say “I love you”. Essentially, somewhat unrequited but it’s not. I fall for men who show me love. Where their expressions are few and hooded and I have to slowly peel away their layers and love them from the outside in because their insides are so tightly guarded that you need patience to love them. I don’t know or maybe I do. I use to write my mom. Yeah, we lived in the same house. But she didn’t talk. She just yelled. Well, mostly. So, when I wanted to talk to her about love stuff and heart stuff and feelings stuff I would write her. I would write these elaborate letters telling her how I understood what she goes through taking care of us but I hate the way she treats me and shouts and hits me and why can’t she just love me like I love her and blah blah blah.
I mean, I want to say more than just blah, and it feels good putting this on paper, well..screen. It feels good saying it out loud; at least loudly in my head. In my mind. My conscious mind. *Sigh of relief* That sigh escaped my lips so forcefully yet so organically. It is as though I have been holding my breath for a long time.
I lulled my head back, opened my chest and heart chakra and inhaled all my lungs could hold. I held it, I held it to remind me how long I have held it and how much it sucks to hold it. And then I did it. I let that shit go. I mean, I exhaled. I ex-the-fuck-haled. I let that shit go. *exhale* It feels so good. See? Yes, that’s magic. At least for me.
I fall for men who remind me of my mom. I fall so deeply in love and it’s painful. It brings back all those amateur emotions. Those volatile ones I held as a child. Well, a 23 year old child it seems. As I must admit, I think I quite literally just now, am evolving or becoming or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. As in, I am just now, growing emotionally. In this very moment. It’s kinda like how Pokemon evolve. It’s happens right before your eyes but it was a culmination of some sort. They had to experience something greater than their current self which forced them to evolve.
I am a new woman. The same new woman. I write this not for you who reads this. But for Imani. For her, for me. I am proud of you, you were a woman in a child’s body. You had and still have a beautiful mind that is capable of such empathy it is unbelievable that the human mind can conceptualize and comprehend such grand things especially so as a child. Well, woman, you are becoming. Made. Don’t be afraid to peel your layers. Good things take time. They call it a delusion and so what? Who gives a fuck. I don’t. You my good woman are divine. A goddess among men. Breathe. Repeat. And when you can no longer breathe, just remember you are infinite, immortal and your soul shall live on. Go baby Grow. #dweetfraid #faithit #chiselon
You are the art and the artist. Keep sculpting. I love what you are creating.
With Infinite Love,