Is it possible to let empowerment get to your head? Is it possible to allow your painful past and the guards you’ve put up to dictate how you treat people? Or, in another case, those who have hurt you–even when they are long gone, is it possible that you make others pay for what they’ve done?

The week–past one–going into the weekend has been one that really took hold of my emotions. Seems like every fear and doubt that I thought I shoved away about my relationship are coming back, and they have new friends. Then Chester Bennington died. So on top of feeling like I’m the worst potential wife, current girlfriend, and crappy person, one of my favorite artists from the early legs of my writing (as well as the angsty years of my teen experience) dies of suicide.

You know how sometimes you don’t really realize what someone means to you?

Of COURSE Chester was an amazing singer and artist. But I stopped really listening to LP around the time they collabed with Jay-Z. It wasn’t anything personal, it’s just that my music tastes sort of shifted for a while. LP was still on every mix list I made, but mainly everything pre-collab. Hearing that he died, it sent something through me. I’d listened to some of LP’s newer stuff, and the regret sank in. So I’m going to binge listen to everything this weekend and upcoming week.

I already cried a little, sang a few songs on Smule Karaoke (my profile is here), and just got out all my tone-deficient feels in the process. It’s amazing how the lyrics just come to you after all those years. But let’s be honest–I didn’t go a lot of places as a teenager. I had friends, but I was still rather unpopular. I was odd because my Blackness didn’t match most of my peers, and for some reason that mattered when I was just trying to be myself. I didn’t know we had to follow a manual for being Black.


I spent a lot of time at home, online, writing, or playing video games. I spent a lot of time with music. Remy Shand, Prince, Gorillaz, Nelly Furtado, Norah Jones, Linkin Park. So while I was making sims, I was singing to a lot of their music. When I was writing my sad little poems, I was reflecting on the emotions LP showed us in their work. Maybe it encourage the wackiness that remains, but all I know is that LP really did save my life, and Chester shined the light on better choices concerning working out my problems.

He made expression an option, that’s for sure.

The doubt part is just kind of due to the way conversations have been going between A and I. I’m starting to worry that maybe I am too young for him. Maybe I’m not strong enough like he wants/expects. Maybe I’m not the best girlfriend or person for him. Unlike the “ticker tape parade” he talks about, maybe I just want the same general enthusiasm I give him when he talks about things in his life that interest him. And maybe I don’t know all the questions to ask, or the right things to do–but I do care for and love this guy.

The honeymoon phase has been over, and that’s cool, you know? We reached a place of comfort where farts and skin tags ain’t a thing. Just seems like sometimes when we joke, it gets hurtful. It stops being playful, and sort of turns into how he really feels or at least thinks about me. When I point this out, he gets uncomfy and talks about all he has done for me–which, yes, is a TON. But my point is that it often conflicts with how he talks to me. That part he doesn’t get, and says that’s just how he is.

When I get blunt, suddenly I’m not very nice, and how dare I….in so many words.

So, you know, feeling like your partner has a lot of truth behind statements like “if not for your [insert parts or aesthetic he likes], then I don’t know if….” puts you in a place.

Am I really that bad of a person that my looks (which aren’t that great, but maybe 4 people find me attractive) shield my overall crappy-ness?

I’m also kind of tired of having long, serious talks about all of this. Like–we’ve talked about all of this and it either dies down or rears its head at another time. It’s making me doubt whether or not I am really good enough for this person. It’s making me feel more like a stepping stone.

And one time we argued so hard that he looked me dead in the eye and said “I wasn’t just saying I love you to say it! I LOVE YOU.”

I know that he means it. A person doesn’t reach into their wallet for you or take you where he has taken me, or opened up like he has. So why are the doubts there?

It’s conversation. Some of them go fine, some of them remind me that we have an 8 year age gap. That we were raised differently. That we feel things differently. We see the world in different ways. We love, but we also clash….hard. We joke, but sometimes it hurts like a motherf*cker.

We have good times.

We have bad times.

But one of us is sitting there with fears and doubts, realizing that she isn’t like other adults, and doesn’t feel good enough or right enough for the person she is with. Or that his doubts are probably being fed with every mistake or stupid action. She isn’t that great, and it’s just a matter of time until….

It’s a bad feeling.

Especially considering how badly she wanted love in the first place. The most frustrating part is that she’s actually trying, and it just seems like she makes it worse every time.