BURYING THE DEAD
I know I seem to be whining a lot about saying goodbye to Ren. Of course, I'm whining! This thing hurts like a BIATCH!! But I know it's what needs to be done, so I'm trying hard to toughen up and take the pain like a woman. So far, I'm not doing so good.
I realise too that I've spent most of my blogs writing about Ren, but seeing as this is the space where I free my mind, and believe you me, my thoughts of Ren are what's mainly on my mind.
Sunday- he calls me late after the party to tell me what I missed. I do the nonchalant thing and he can barely take it.
He tells me he's sick. You'll be okay, I say. He wants me to come see him. I say, let me know when you're free, and I'll come. Goodnight.
Wed- I hear he's still sick, but is gone outta town. I'm fuming by now cos I had to hear it form someone else. But to get angry will mess up my plan. So I maintain my Miss Congenlaity stance and call him. and leave a message. He doesn't respond, so I call later in the evening. He doesn't even pick up. By now, I know this nigga's tail needs to be whupped.
I block my number out, call again and, sho' 'nuff, he picks up. I think, oh, you're going down, muthafucker, but I say, hi, how are you feeling and all that good stuff. I'm so nice that he says I'm acting weird like I don't care. I think, if only you knew.
I end the call with the negro saying he'll call me later.
Didn't hear from him till Fri. I was on the phone with one of my coz when he shows up there. I hang up quickly when I hear its him. I'm thinking, if this punk doesn't call me to find out why I did that, it really is on.
About fifteen mins later he calls and tells me what a horrible person I am. I am saccharine sweet to him. He doesn't get it that the sugar he's tasting is fake. So we have a converse devoid of drama. He even makes a comment that he likes something and since I like him, I shd like it too.
Wow. Talk about taking you for granted. He barely acknowledges my presence all week and comes back to talk to me like nothing happend. I'm thinking: the guy is either the Greatest Player of All Time or he really is clueless.
I would have opted for clueless till he made the comment about me liking him. It's nothing but fishing. He knows exactly how awful he's been, and he's trying to see if I'm pissed or not. He did that to pick my brain and see just where I stand with him.
Boy, oh boy! If only he knew what is coming. He'd run back into his mama's womb. This is not a case of the Glenn Close. It's simply a case of teaching a moron a lesson. By the time I'm done with him, he'd wish he'd never been born. Like I said, he'll want to run back into his mama's womb.
I'm not being vindictive or nothing. I just hate it when people insult my intelligence and take me for granted. BIG MISTAKE!
Anyway, we're burying the hatchet and the guy it was used to kill.
R.I.P REN.
What could have been is dead. Unless you want to try and be like the Son of God and resurrect it. 'S going to be hard as a mug, nigga.
holler

 
THE GHOST OF US
...What am I supposed to do with all these blues?
Haunting me, everywhere, no matter what I do,
Raising a glass I sink a toast to the midnight sky, I wonder why
The stars don't seem to guide me....
BBMak. (Ghost of You and Me)

I didn't mean to fall in love with you
But, baby, there's a name for what you put me through,
It isn't love, it's robbery
I'm sleeping with the Ghost of You and Me