Can you Make Someone Care?

  “I told her, that even though it’s her birthday… it doesn’t really affect anyone else. It’s

not a holiday. And that’s what I said, cuz that’s how I felt,” I explained. As I retold it, it sounded cold, but sometimes facts feel like that. Are my feelings wrong if they hurt someone else’s feelings? Or is it now that person’s personal problem? 

“You probably shouldn’t have said that,” he told me and he’s the only one who tells me the truth. I can’t say that he was right… it did need to be said. It just wasn’t nice,  is all. Now, before I can have a conversation with a person, it feels like run my thoughts by a third party and re-adjust my real. “Don’t say all that,” Carl told me. But I fear it’s the things you shouldn’t say that matter the most. “I know why you said what you did. Believe me, I do,” she wrote to me, 2 years later. “What was more upsetting was the way you went about it.” I was too public. I should keep more secrets. I should tell people, privately, what everyone says behind their backs. I should watch how much I blog. I should be careful who reads this. I should remind everyone I’ve been the same mhhfcka since ’88. 

              I usually feel like I’m the only one actually willing to have a real conversation. It’s usually me staring blank-face at someone with my head tilted and asking, “well…” while they shrug and pretend to not understand whatever language I speaking in. Either that, or people sit across tables from me –or across invisible wires — and try to explain to me how whatever they wanted me to do, I didn’t do and that’s why they’re upset. We seem to have these scripts in our heads and expect people to fit neatly into them. When they don’t we assume that person has acted improperly, when in fact… we might have simply casted wrong. I have less and less and less friends as the days go by, it seems. Sometimes, it happens like that. Sometimes, I prefer it that way. I went home last week and gave Kay K the biggest attitude because she had borrowed my sweater, but she wasn’t home the next day before I left. I usually leave without saying a word to anyone, but I decided not to be fcked up to her. I was just upset she wasn’t there. I was also upset I was thrown off my schedule. But… that has nothing to do with her and, in fact, really wasn’t that big of a deal. Mid-Traffic, I had to pull up my message and sent by boo a sweet apology. She never tripped on me and that’s because of the only reason we’re friends, Kay K loves me. In the fashion of a true high-school love story, I lost my best friends the summer I met Kay K because Kay K showed me, in three months, love I had never felt in 13 years. The most painful lesson I learned is that if you don’t know any better, you settle for the worst. 

            Most times, I’m the worst. Single me likes to ask why I’m single (along with single everyone else), and I realize I don’t even give hope. I ignore the men who look my way. When they put on enough pressure to get my phone number, I cross my fingers and hope the conversation will make it 24 hours. I never want to see them again. They’re never as handsome as they sound. I don’t actually like “friends” or rappers who think rhymes can get my panties off (I’m very judgmental about rhymes & I pull mine to the side). I never know who thinks they have a chance with me and it usually ends after the third or fourth text message when I tell exactly which games I am not here to play. One one hand, I’m a completely cold, thorough and badass bitch.

Sometimes, I’m the absolute best. It’s scary to be. As I fumble my way through the music, I’ve found that relationships and artistry take much of the same path –one learns and matures. In both love and music, I’ve learned what I am good at, what I need improvement in, what I aim to accomplish and the sht I’ll never do again. In both music and love, I’ve learned that I need to give my all. Even if I feel like I’m not enough… like I might fall short, I give myself with complete confidence in who I am because… baby, I refuse to let that change. We’re all such particular people, you can’t count on the next person understanding anything you feel. In competition, this becomes an advantage. There are things in music that I’m willing to try… even if others are not. There are things in a relationship I’m willing to do, even if others are not. The story though, is yours. Or rather, mine. I’ve stopped speaking so much. It’s true, we all have “flaws,” but those flaws are determined in the eyes of others. So when you tell a person your story, you can’t be sure what they consider to be a good or bad thing. That is your  story. Not only does that person have no experience with it, but God didn’t want them to. What do they know? People don’t know anything, especially when they think they do. It’s how people think they know everything about you if they know your middle name and favorite color.  

The truth is, no one cares. No one cares about you, they only see the world through their eyes. They only see how it will benefit them. It doesn’t matter. Keep being a good person. Still, take note of how people treat you. Not everyone will be as loving, as caring, as honest or pure as you are in your intentions. But when you realize that, give yourself a little bit of respect and remove yourself. You can cut these relationships when you are sure that you’ve done that person no wrong. Even more so, you can probably point out the things you’ve done for that person while they say over and over how they were your “friend”. You don’t have to wait for people to hurt you to remove them from your life, you should hope to be wise enough to know when that relationship simply isn’t headed in the right direction. This isn’t a cause for war or argument. You shouldn’t expect anything in return for your love, but you deserve it. Everyone has their limit, establish yours. 

              Here’s the real truth: I’m so tired. I’m tired of the lazy applause. I’m tired of people silently adding up the coins in my pocket, never taking the time to open my mail. I’m tired of people wanting to use me for the nothing I have. I’m tired of being underestimated. I’m tired of pretending like I have time for people. I’m tired of people asking when we’re going to get together when we have nothing to get together for. I’m tired of people comparing themselves to me. I’m tired of being compared to others. I’m tired of people saying they love me but not enough to go to my shows. I’m tired of them thinking I care if they attend. I’m tired of supporting people so consistently it becomes so natural they forget. I’m tired of having to remove myself from the world to prove I breathe my own air. I’m tired of people asking me questions about boyfriends but want me to be locked up in their houses with their spouses and children for what, tutoring? I’m tired of people counting on me in their future plans like a human savings bond. I’m tired of having been depended on and not acknowledged. I’m tired of listening to people, they don’t say much anyway. I’m tired of the arguments. I’m tired of “fighting” being the only way you can show you care. I’m tired of “happy” and “joyous” being awkward feelings people think aren’t meant to last. I’m tired of people asking me what my flaws are. I’m tired of people thinking God makes mistakes. I’m tired of that “nobody’s perfect” bullshit. I’m tired of soft gangsters and twerking songstresses. I’m tired of trends. I’m tired of being politically correct. I’m tired of having to take the entire world’s feelings into account every time I speak. I’m tired of people asking me “what do you do?” instead of clicking my fcking links and reading a paragraph – you rhyme, but you don’t read? I’m tired of people thinking I want to write about them and how they do the same thing everyone else does, for profit. I’m tired of people think I want to sit back row are their events and write on them —for free. I’m tired of everyone thinking they’re the best out when you’re just a startup and if you know anything about business, you know that 25% of you will fail in the first year – I’m going on my fourth and I still pray. I’m tired of hearing rappers rap about luxury vehicles they’ve never driven, posting videos of rentals on instagram while I named mine “Kim”; she’s the all-black nightrider parked outside and we just got a n oil-change so she’s runnin’ super smooth, but I gotta get my tire sensors checked. I’m tired of female rappers being so proud of having vaginas they forgot to focus on their lyrics, and if they won’t flaunt their own bodies, they bring along “friends” to twerk on stage behind them like it makes them righteous to have hoes. I’m tired of ignoring the fact that singers should be attractive, people have to want to look at you with all those lights pointed in your direction. I’m tired of closing my eyes during showcases to ignore everyone’s bum ass kicks and shared apparel. I’m tired of all  your crews. I’m tired of being more gangsta than 99% of men I meet, who usually spend their evening walking miniature schnauzers, and I don’t date men who own poodles. I’m tired of artists who will tell you everything about themselves except about the children they created who are sitting at home waiting on them. I’m tired of people ignoring that rapping is rhythm and poetry, over a beat and infused with bravado. I’m tired of holding this writing degree under my belt like it’s not my secret weapon just because,without this rap sht, I’m crazy straight.  I’m tired of people not understanding that I am in love with words and no matter who we string them together I breathe. this. shit. I’m tired of wanting to stop being great because no matter what work you do, people just want to use you and abuse you for it, but they certainly won’t pay you.  I’m tired of people telling me how I should run my business, as if my alma mater didn’t do a brilliant job and as if I’m not the dopest out. I’m tired of people trying to recruit me into their groups, client lists and beds. I’m tired of looking at chicks and thinking “ewww her?”. I’m tired of having to give more than I get because that’s the way Jesus loved, so I live my life in present fear that since I walk his path, they’ll crucify me just like him. I’m tired of having to be quiet about being in love with who I am. I’m tired of having to act like love isn’t all I want or like I’m not a woman and that a man shouldn’t know exactly what I need. I’m tired of being the only chick who hangs out with the guys. I’m tired of that one guys who will never understand. I’m tired of thinking I might get along with these hoes, only to end up sitting on my couch with my puppy in my lap & Univision on silent reminded that the only woman I’ll ever trust is the woman who birthed me. 

 “Whoever you end up with, I’ll be so happy to watch it happen,” were the last words I expected him to say. I get so caught up in my emotions of the world, I treat it all the same. I’m never really looking for involvement, but since I am single, it seems people (men and more women, lately) like to try their hand. When I turn men down, they don’t know if they’re not my type, if I actually do have a boyfriend, or if I’m lying. When they ask to take me out and I decline (or more often ignore), I usually question myself. I wonder why I don’t go. Why don’t I take advantage? Why don’t I do that damn thang and get a bill paid? When I decide not to reach out to “friends” anymore… I think about what I’ll do instead. What will my nightlife be like? Who will I party with? Fact of the matter is, I don’t take advantage because I’m ok. If I pay all my own bills, and it’s my name on the guest list… I guess I’m really ok. I could be doing better, but then, I couldn’t sing Independent Women so loudly and proudly. If I wasn’t so sure that, one day, I’ll be a great wife and a phenomenal mother (which are actually my only true goals in life, everything else is money), I’d be hesitant to be on my Beyoncé. But… aside from my mother… I have very few role models.

 I’m tired of the fantasy in my head. The most stressful part of life is trying to get people to act right. Honor, loyalty, respect… smh. You wish. So partially, I’ve given it all up. It’s not that I’ve lost hope or faith — I love me some God –but I won’t let the idea of anyone else (and what they are or are not doing) ruin my mood or my groove. I just know I have so much to accomplish in this lifetime. Mostly, people just distract you. We can be each other’s most effective sources of inspiration or our greatest deterrents from our goals. The best partnerships in the world are the ones that uplift one another… that’s all I want. Caring is obvious. A person who care about you cares about everything about you. Sometimes, they even care about the things you don’t care about. We have to expect love. We have to, as much as we don’t seem to believe in it. I’m still teaching myself how to truly believe. I run into the most problems in trying to “convince” people that I am who I am. I do what I do. My decisions are calculated and I can be trusted… but people lie… and what you have to do with your life, doesn’t really affect them… so they don’t really care what you say. Don’t worry about them, and never mention them.

      I just had to get these emotions out. I hope, if you’ve read to the end, you’ve gained something. I’m actually groovy. If you know me, you know I do what I want… This is how I encourage myself *shrugs* Sometimes you just have to put your mind in the right place… first, you have to tell the truth. 

  • If you wanna know what I do, click the following link – presidentella.wordpress.com

  • My soundcloud is finally up: Soundcloud.com/presidentella

  • I’m currently working on publishing my poetry book. You all will see that first.

  • JWWWD Magazine will print in Spring 2014!!!!!!! I’ll be editing the teams’ first submissions next month, can’t wait to read those!!!

Most Sincere, 

Ella

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