I have been teetering on the edge. I know how I am, and how, when I am uncomfortable, I act impulsively. I want to just jump. I don’t want to think or plan. My patience is not set up well in that regard.
However, I’m allowing space for things to fall into alignment. I’m giving myself room to figure things out ahead of time… so that I’m not jumping (again) without a net. Maybe this is fear talking. Maybe it’s sense. But either way, I want to make sure that when I leap, my baby and I will be okay.
Today’s Story—
At one point in time in my life, I wanted to be accepted so badly that I accepted other people’s cruelty towards me. I didn’t necessarily think I deserved it, but I allowed a lot of bad behavior because I didn’t feel like I had anything else. I’m sad for that version of me now, and at the same time, I’m glad I grew out of that.
Still, this story came from me trying to understand why I allowed someone who treated me poorly to still come around. Hope you enjoy.
Nice
by Katrina Mitchell
“What?” He looked straight at me, his right arm resting comfortably on my dinner table. He had this cocky, slightly amused grin spreading across his face. I sat across the room, on the couch, with my legs peeking out of a black and gray blanket. I wanted to be serious, but seeing that smile...I had to look away.
“I hate that they all experience you differently.” I breathed deeply.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your friends. One guy says your loyal to a fault, talkative, opinionated...I was just like I’ve never seen that. When you’re with me, you barely give me more than two sentences at a time.”
“You trippin’,” he said.
“Then the other guy, he kept saying you we’re a real cool guy. He said you were nice, funny.” I took a short pause. “You never nice to me.”
“Nice to you?”
“You not nice. How is it you can be that way to your friends, but you can lay up in my house and not be nice to me? What have I done to you to deserve that?”
He scratched his beard and sat back. “You said you didn’t want nothing from me.”
“Does that mean I can’t get friendliness from you?”
“Well, yeah.”
I tossed my long braids off my shoulder. “That’s fucked up, blood.”
“That’s the arrangement. We hook up. That’s it.”
“I’m not asking for extra when I ask you to be nice to me.”
“Aight.” He stood, and grabbed his t-shirt off the ground. “I need to smoke.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not coming back, huh?”
“I’m coming back.” He walked over to me and kissed my forehead. “Nice enough for ya?”
“You’re not coming back.”
“I am, damn. I just want a cigarette.”
“Why can’t you just sit with me? We can’t even have a conversation.”
“I don’t think you’re understanding.” He paced in front of the door. “This thing ain’t no me-you thing. I can’t give you what you want.”
“I don’t want nothing more than what you want.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be talking about this shit.”
“I just wanna know why you feel like its okay to be an asshole to me. Why do your friends get to see the cool you, the nice you, the talkative and friendly you, but not me? Why do I gotta settle for less from you?”
He opened the door and walked outside. I wanted to call his name. Instead I stood, closed the door behind him, and locked it.
I watched him light a cigarette through the peephole of my door. “I’m coming back,” he yelled. He exhaled, and a cloud of smoke enveloped him. When it dissipated, he was gone too.
It’s 4:00 am. I opened the door and searched for him. I ran around the complex, but saw nothing. I walked back to my door, slowly.
I walked inside, and he was back in his chair.
“Where’d you go?” he asked.
“I went looking for you.”
“I told you I’d be back.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
“I know,” he said.
I sat back on the couch. We looked at each other, but neither of us said a word.
