Yes. I said fuck. Because without Mama I feel fucked, lopsided, incomplete. And I am coming home. I am sending the trumpets and elephants ahead to clear the way. I proclaim my truth to shut folks up about it. Mama and I may have shit together, but that between us. And we can handle our shit ok? No need for the cavalry of family sticking their noses and words into our witches brew. Go make your own stew with your own child. Get out of our kitchen.
Me and Mama are cooking. And I am teaching her a new recipe. So but out. Stay out or you keep spoiling the recipe. Leave Mama alone. What the hell do you even know about me and Mama? Nothing. I am her secret. Ok. But out. Let Mama unravel. Let her be. Love her. Accept her. Accept me and you accept her. Damn folks are dumb. Lord I apologize. Damn people just don’t get it. I know my Mama and what she needs. You all just know the lies. I know her truth. Fuck off.
And take you pity party somewhere else. Stop worrying about your damn places. And give me mine back thank you! Yeah. You have all been using my place and need to let go. Ok? Yeah. That’s it, just pry your hands off my place and give it back to me. Thanks for keeping it warm. This girl is not taking any shit. No more.
I need to see my Mama. Butt out already. I am so sick of it. I am sick of watching you all parade around as if I am dead. How do you think you all look to our Mama? How? Are you truly helping? Hell know. I am amazed that my college graduate sisters are the ones that just walk away.
Oh thanks for the scriptures. I’ll post a pick of the letter I got the other day. No return address. Post marked Portland. Typed out and folded. It’s so cryptic.
I WONDER WHO SENT IT? The plot thickens?
Guess I will have to do a study on here about it. Evidently I am out of line with scripture and need a typed study from an unknown person In Portland Oregon to purge my sins away. Ok. I’m game. Let’s play the scripture game. I love it.
I’ll post it later. I need to pray and read.
God bless you all.