Listless..

One thing I try to do in life and with this blog, is not come off as (too) angry at men. I don't always succeed lol, but I try.  I attempt to be understanding and non-judgmental, but the mind-sets, self-beliefs and behaviors of some guys (individually and globally).. truly drive me crazy at times.

One of the biggest aggravators for me is men's attitudes about themselves and how it relates to women. Lots of men feel that because they have a penis and do something nice for a woman every once and a while, she should be undyingly grateful and supportive. What they fail to consider is, suppose that's not enough? Taking us out to dinner is great and thank you, but we need more than a meal. Much more. A woman who is happy with that arrangement is a woman who

A) Is settling
B) Needs to raise her self-esteem and self-worth.

A man who would realistically expect a woman to be happy with presenting this arrangement of nothingness is weak and truly uninformed. He also needs an adjustment of the self-esteem meter.

I was in a relationship where a man gave me bare minimum and expected complete loyalty and gratitude, as opposed to the reciprocated crumbs he offered.

He left me BEYOND drained. It was as if he woke up for the sole reason of stealing my energy and light. We lived together so up and leaving took some planning. He was overbearing, possessive and crazy. Everything was always my fault. It got to the point where I had no strength left to argue. I would nod my head while secretly checking apartment listings. We even went to couples therapy where he said virtually nothing. After we left, I asked why he was so silent. He said to me, "I don't know that guy. I don't want him in my business."

I knew right then we were completely through.

Fast forward a few years to today. I'm currently doing a fast and detoxing my body, mind and even my home. While cleaning through papers that have accumulated over the years, I found a poem I wrote in college about that very draining relationship. I was so bereft of energy, I didn't bother to capitalize any of the words. I suppose the professor didn't mind.

I got an A+.

My tales of woe was called,

Listless

if i were fabric, i'd be frayed. unraveled. worn and threadbare.  
split ragged like the very bottom of hair.

if i was a color, i'd be dull. limp. inching along with small breaths. tiny gasps. 
off-blacks and grays. to match the nervousness of my days.

if i was water i'd be a drip. a plop and a plip. not enough to cover a tongue or soak a stamp.
not enough to be defined as damp.

if i was a house i'd be run-down. crumbling bricks hitting the ground. once fiery orange now rusted. water spots. peeling paint. the vibrance of my true color is faint. walls that sway, barely not giving in. like weeping willow trees. backs become hunched by the force of the breeze.

if i was sleep i'd be a nap. a quick closed eye retina cap. a box too small for a gift. like the eye of a needle, too tiny for a dream to fit. like a blink, much too swift.

i am a cobweb. a covering not asked to be there. the result of age and dust, dirt and neglect. I am the redness, from the boot on the neck. i am the fog on the window. the soot. the ash. i am the crackle under the shoe, no moisture to stick to.

i sag.
i droop.
not the top tier, but the stoop.

i. am. worn. down.

-WTS.