naia. twenty. african-american. bronx born. harlem raised. random. preacher's kid. hyperempathist. aspiring designer.
co-founder of ORIGIN8TY9INE. renovative. messy neat freak. spiritual. extroverted introvert. bookworm. talkative. asshole.
gospel rapper. in love with love. writer & poet. imaginocreative. something like a singer. high quality example of intelligent design. mp3/internet/cell phone junkie. macs are evil. fragile heart. tough shell. txt msg'r. therapist. introspective. overprotective. night owl.
i'm not a player, i just crush a lot?

Saturday, June 7, 2008

morningafter.

so after all that, i calmed down enough to take my crazy butt to bed. i was still a little sad and paranoid, but i managed to fall asleep around 1. he texted me around... oh, 1:40-something in the morning.

him: hey baby!
me: hey :)
him: what's up were u n deep sleep?
me: nah, i'd just drifted off about a half hour ago. wup with you?
him: nothin about to leave work and talk to my special lady... you baby

i was gonna respond, but i fell asleep in mid-text with the phone near my face. he ended up calling me at 4:21 am. he offered to let me go back to sleep, but i wanted to talk despite the time. he asked me what i did to calm myself down when i had spazzed out earlier (it was kinda messy... music, crying, and toying with a few dangerous ideas... not fun). i told him it was just crying and music and thinking. so he asked what did i realize that made me calm down. i told him that i just ran out of steam.

him: that's good... i'm glad you're back to this Naia.
me: you and me both
him: yeah... it scares me when you go back to that other one.
me: it scares us all.
him: yeah... she leaves a lot of anger in her path.
me: i know... i gotta learn to control it better.
him: it's part of who you are...
me: yeah, but i should still control it better.
him: i agree.


so yeah. guess who has anger issues? lmaooo. only slightly, though. i mean, i need to learn to channel them better, i guess. i don't do creative writing as much as i used to, so i'm not venting my anger in any sort of productive way.

i wanna make cookies, but it's hot =[

i was gonna go get some chinese food, but there's a trillion and seven puerto ricans outside. wtf @ seven-year-old's with belly tops and seventy-year-olds in tube tops. [ rolls eyes ] y'all messing this up...

i'm trying to find an outfit that isn't a thousand degrees hot so i can go to christian's play. if it's not good, i'mma text through the whole thing. [ charges my phone ]

my room is a mess. i need to clean it. [ looks around ]


okay, back to my pink lemonade and blue collar comedy tour.


peace.

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