Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Sunday Nights

Three things happened on that Sunday night and none of them were holy.
First I realized that my relationship was over. That I didn't have to hide what I wanted from the world. I told my friend that he was a child I was a woman and I was not ready to be a mother to a bit older than me at the age 17. So that's that.
Second my rapist followed me on Instagram. Minding my own business doing some Sunday night homework, as you do, and I look down cause my phones flashing saying "hey girl look at this Malik is now following you on Instagram" like no thank you. He's followed me enough in my life that I don't need to see his sorry ass face anymore. So I had a panic attack, cried a little and went on with my night. 
Third I realized what I had already known. That I was in love. I was in love with the boy who was a man and treated me like a woman. I was in love with Parmesan garlic boneless chicken wings and his face when he ate them. I was in love with mainstream Justin beiber. But I knew all this already it was just a nice reminder after a long night.
My Sunday nights have never been holy 
because on my Sunday nights my world either fell apart or came together none of which was gods doing it was because I knew that Sunday's were my days to become in touch with who I was. On this Sunday night I first fell apart and kept falling until he helped me come together. Sunday's were the days when I knew I was in love.

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