Tragic Boyfriend Tales #8

This tale isn’t actually tragic. As in one of my Tragic Crush Tales this one isn’t about the guy. This is all about my shortcomings. I’m in no way perfect and I have to be ready to call myself out the same that I would anyone else.
        Boyfriend W is a really great guy. We actually met a million years ago back in high school. We weren’t terribly close, but we hung in the same circles and I always thought he was a cool dude. Once we graduated we parted ways only to reconnect a few years later to go to a concert. After that we lost touch for about a decade or more with maybe a few times reaching out on Facebook here and there. Of course in today’s fashion we reconnected through social media and Tinder, of all places. I had just finished dealing with a top notch fuckboy and another who only saw me as a booty call. I was still trying to dip my foot in the dating pond despite that. One night a guy from Tinder blew me off.... ok he didn’t blow me off. He was taking to long and I’m impatient. I reached out to W to see if he’d like to join me in karaoke. I didn’t see it as a date at the time, honestly. I had an amazing time. We went to eat afterwards and it was nice to actually have a conversation with someone, feel like they’re listening to you, and not looking for sex after as some sort of prize for being a decent human being. A few days later we went to see a movie and everything shot like a rocket after that. I quickly fell for him as he did me.
        I am in love with this man. Here’s where the tragic part comes in. I feel like I have a shitty way of showing it. I’m terrible at expressing my feelings because that’s what I grew up around. “I love you” were always words that were spoken at the end of things; a phone call, a bedtime story, a goodbye. It was never, that I remember, said just because. Therefore, it was almost something that was said out of habit and not of feeling. I try to tell him I love him often because that’s what I feel. I want him to know I love him now, when he comes to mind, or when I’m with him and not just at goodbyes.
        We are very much still in honeymoon phase so no arguments as of yet, but we have come across very small pebbles in our journey. Each time boiled down to me not being able expressing myself. He even once told me that it was frustrating. All I could do was cry, because I can only imagine that it is frustrating. He was right. It’s something I need to work on, but I never had a great example. Hell, I come from a household where when my parents argued my mom would stick her fingers in her ears and yell “Blah, blah, blah” like a second grader and then place me in the middle. That’s my example of communication with a significant other. I know I am not my parents, but I do come from them. A lot of my affection has childlike qualities. There’s giggling, pouting when things don’t go my way, and short answers when not in the mood. I have a lot of growing to do, but I have come a long way.
        The other form of tragic when it comes to W, is all in my head. I’m a worrier. I’m an individual who is definitely her own worst enemy. Therefore I’m always wondering when he’ll get tired, realizes he can do better, and leaves. Again, all in my head. But W is such a great man. He listens to me, he shows me how much he loves me, he’s an amazing father to his daughter, he’s patient, and he’s my biggest cheerleader. Even as I type this I should be getting ready for a date with him, but he knows how I struggle with my writing and told me to write while I have the motivation. That’s a man. A man that when I show him my unfinished work he mapped out possible plots for a story I so badly want to write. Not even my closest friends who are writers give me such advice. He’s more than I could have ever asked for and then some.
        Not even a month into our relationship I told him that he was it for me. I meant it. I just want my actions and words to prove just as much. I want to push away all my insecurities and anxiety so that I can love him better. I don’t want this to become a true tragic tale. I want this to turn into a fairytale instead. The only way I can make sure of that is to confront myself now so that later I’m not wondering what went wrong and looking for someone to blame. This man is it for me. There is no doubt about that. Someone told me “I bet you wish you had met him sooner.” No. Not at all. Although my approach to love is somewhat childish I have definitely grown from what I used to be. I can at least own up to my shortcomings. Asia five plus years ago, not so much. I was in a different place in my life, and so was he. The timing had to be perfect for us. That time is now. And to think it all started with a last minute “date” to karaoke.

I Don't Have The Words

No words can describe how you make me feel.
None can define how my face lights up when I think of you.
There’s no words to illustrate how the butterflies flutter in my stomach when we touch.
Nor the way my heart swells when I stare at you.
There’s not enough words in the English language that express how much I love you.
I say it often to make up for lost time.
But it’s never enough.
No words could tell you how much I appreciate you.
Not a word can define how much I love you for loving all of me.
Nothing can describe how fast I fell after the first kiss.
No words can expound how much I look forward to our future.
All of the laughs.
Deep conversations.
Love making.
Eye gazing.
Nothing can describe how right we are for each other.
I don’t have the words to express how much I love you.
The only thing I can do it show you everyday.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, I Don’t Have The Words 2017©

My Father's Daughter

People wonder how I have such a temper, but am the sweetest person they know.
After all, I am my father's daughter.
Filled with creativity that takes no effort.
The strength of a thousand men in a small frame.
Overflowing with knowledge even Google doesn't know.
That was my father.
This is me.
Emotions that are buried down deep.
Secrets that will never be told.
Pain that would never be shared.
Each takes us piece, by piece, by piece.
Eating away until there is nothing left.
You wouldn't know because the strong don't break.
We don't bend.
We are resilient.
We put ourselves to the side putting you first.
"Are you good?"
"Are you okay?"
"You need any help?"
"What do you need?"
More worried about you than us.
Independents with a people pleaser attitude.
That's how it is.
That's because I am my father's daughter.
Will give you the shirt off our back.
But we take no shit.
As fierce as ever.
But broken inside.
A protector unprotected.
That was him.
This is me.
This is us one in the same.

 - Asia Aneka Anderson, My Father’s Daughter 2017©

Note To Self

Why don’t you bleed for this?
Why won’t you die for it?
If it is a passion where is yours?
If it is undeniable why do you deny it?
Where is your thirst?
Where is your determination?
Where is the want?
You want this.
Don’t you?
You work past the fear.
You work through the “no’s”
Even the ones you tell yourself.
Only then will you find your passion.
There you will bleed, suffer, and die for this.
How much do you want it?
No one said it would be easy.
But the hardest things are always the most worthy.
Do you sill want to give up now?
You got a taste of it.
There’s no way you can turn back now.
Give passion to your passion.
Go after what makes you happy.
After all, life is short.
Remove yourself from blocking yourself.
Only you are in the way.
Only you tell you that you don’t have what it takes.
The lies you tell yourself.
In fact, you can conquer all.
Continue the battle until you have won.
There is no other choice but victory.
You deserve every accomplishment you achieve.
If you bleed, fight, and die for it.
You can do anything.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Note To Self 2017©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: The Trials And Errors Of My Love Life

        My love life is, for sure, a tragedy. It’s a combination of self sabotage, picking horribly, and bad timing. It’s a complete clusterfuck, and to be honest my love life has been nothing but a clusterfuck from my very first date. I thought it was something that would improve with time and age, and in a way it has, but definitely not too much.
        For the past six years I have been single. Yes. Six. Fucking. Years. Shoot me. I’m not even sure what happened and how time escaped me the way that it did. Somehow six years went by where I had not been intimate with a man. That seems absolutely insane. That’s something you hear and expect the end of the story to wind up with the girl becoming a nun. That is definitely not my story. My story involves hectic work schedules, over stressed, financial ruin, major setbacks, major bouts of depression, deaths in the family, more depression, blah, blah, blah. It was never ending. I barely had time for human contact because everything left me so exhausted. Whenever I did get the opportunity to become attracted to someone something would come around to cock block me. It was either the timing was off. He had a girlfriend, or fresh out of a relationship, or I was in the middle of making a major life change like moving back home from Chicago, or he just simply turned out to be a douchebag. I actually had a lot of the last one. Meets guy. Guy says all the right things. I start to get all googly eyed for said guy. Guy finally exposes that he’s a huge pig that only cares about sex, doesn’t give a flying fuck about me as a person it’s just all “Whoooo let me see them tiddies!!” Ugh. Sometimes I just had to step back. It shook my faith in love knowing that some men didn’t want all of me, but only what they thought I could offer sexually. In the past I’d sometimes allow that to be my relationship fate. Perhaps if I oblige then things could go further, but a man only interested in your body can never flip a switch and suddenly become attracted to your personality. So many fucks I can’t take back. So many that I’m ashamed that I don’t want to take back even if I could.
        Being a single Libra is quite frustrating, especially for me now at 34. In my 20s it wasn’t TOO bad. There were days I still wanted to curl up next to someone after a long day at work, or cook for, to make you laugh, and all things cutesy, but 20 something me didn’t mind it as much to be alone. Now I’m at an age where times call for settling down. The only problem is that most men my age aren’t getting the same calling. It’s nothing but games, my favorite “I’m not ready for a relationship, but don’t leave me!”, “waste her time 2017″ this, or “if she doesn’t do xyz then leave her” that. Everybody wants to act like they’re in their late teens and don’t want to grow up and build something with another person. Being a sign that represents partnership is hard in this day and age and dealing with men like this. You start to mistake his lust for genuine affection. I get excited over little things when I get a bit of attention.When my phone lights up with a notification from then current object of my affection, I light up even more, but for no reason at all because in the end I always end up disappointed.You start to make excuses. “He said he’s not ready for a relationship, but we have a good time so maybe I’ll just stick it out.” Sis! He’s just lonely and you fill the void for the time being and you’re a good fuck! I never listen to myself. I think things will work in my favor knowing he’s already informed me where his intentions lie. Still I hope somewhere down the line feelings will change and I just end up with my feelings hurt and all of this effort put into a person I had no future with while I could’ve been focusing elsewhere.
        When I look at my love life now, or lack thereof, I turn on myself. Maybe I’m not loveable. Maybe love isn’t in the cards for me. Maybe I’m put here on this Earth for something else. Maybe it’s that no one I’m attracted to wants me. Then I turn into myself a little more. Then I think every man I talk to just wants something from me, because there’s no way he actually wants me for me. I’m always waiting for a game to be played. That’s my self sabotage. I know deep down those things aren’t true, but on the surface that’s every feeling that flows through me. I’m not meant to be loved, but that’s what I want more than anything. So I play the game, waste my time, sulk when it’s over, and repeat.
        I don’t know when this clusterfuck will end. It seems to drag on longer and longer. Every time I think I’ve found a good one it turns out very bad. I guess this loneliness will last just a wee bit longer no matter how much I hate it. I’m watching everyone around me grow, get married, have kids, and I’m still stuck at square one and wondering what the hell is wrong with me. So trials and error, and error, and more errors. Hopefully this isn’t my life for another six years. I try to convince myself that this has to happen in order for me to find my soul mate, but that still doesn’t cure the loneliness of now. I know when it comes down to it waiting is best. It does pay to be picky because I can weed my way through the bullshit, including my own. Still, just still, it would be nice to be wanted. It would be nice to be loved even if temporary.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©

Lost In My Mind

What happens when your mind gets lost?
What happens when happy thoughts turn to sad?
Where does it stop?
When does it end?
My mind doesn’t pause.
Nor does it stop.
Thoughts that taunt me endlessly.
Convince me that I’m not good enough when I start to feel peace.
Tells me I’m not pretty enough when my confidence start to peak.
My own thoughts are my only enemies.
Steady somewhere between not good enough and barely getting by.
My mind stuck in a prison begging to be free.
Those little flickers of light bring hope.
Suddenly the clanging of the bars ring loud and clear.
So what happens when my mind gets lost?
My thoughts go dark.
What happens when happy goes to sad?
Hopelessness soon follows.
Where does it stop or end?
I don’t know.
I don’t think it ever does.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, Lost In My Mind 2017©

You Can't Take My Happily Ever After

The very thought of you had me playing Disney themed romance scenes in my mind.
Happily ever afters.
Turned into nothing but disasters.
You shed your Prince Charming role.
With it my trust you stole.
First had me feeling like a princess.
Now the shit you put me through is senseless.
Exaggerated feelings that never existed.
If only your actions could've been consistent.
Lust mistaken for love.
A false partnership I never dreamed of.
Lies upon lies.
From that I grew to despise.
Once upon a time you hand me in the palm of you hand.
Later to reveal you lack what it takes to be a man.
Sadly in my heart you still remain.
But I know that it's all in vain.
There are no fairy tales with you in the end.
I know now that it was all pretend.
My prince charming does exist.
He'll be genuine and your lies will not be missed.
I won't let you shake my belief in happily ever after.
One day I'll find that man that shows me I truly matter.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, You Can’t Take My Happily Ever After 2017©

Tragic Crush Tales: #10 Part Deux

When will I ever learn that some people are not meant to make a reentry into your life? I learned that again for the millionth time recently. Let’s recap on the first part of E’s shenanigans. He was a guy I met on social media at the end of 2015. He was in and out of my life until about August of 2016 when I realized the reason he was in and out of my life was because there was another woman. That’s pretty much the whole gist. He’d play victim and tried to blame me for his betrayal, but the conclusion of it at is that he was dishonest.
        We fast forward to about April of this year. I’m in the car and I get a text message. It wasn’t from a saved number, but it said “I’m in your neck of the woods.” Now I was kind of freaked out at first because who just randomly texts a stranger that? Then I noticed that I had previous texts from this number and realized it was E again. I never deleted his old messages, because I never get rid of receipts. Against better judgement I let him back in again. He apologized and said that he had made a mistake. All was forgiven, but not forgotten. See, I forgave him because from the very start I could tell he was broken. Perhaps it’s the Libra in me or the depression I battle that allows me to see through someone’s mask. He wasn’t much for a deep communicator, but I could tell. So he was forgiven for his mistake and we got back to flirting as usual. Even before we started talking again I had already purchased tickets way back in January to see my favorite band, U2, in Chicago in the summer. We counted down the days until we would finally meet. The butterflies got stronger and I was honestly more excited to see him than I was to see a band I’ve loved since I was seven years old.
        Later that night when I arrived in Chicago we finally met. I couldn’t believe he was standing right in front of me. I tried to keep my cool and not become giddy as I saw this man I’d become infatuated with finally there in the flesh. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. It felt like we were old friends getting a chance to hang out again after years of being apart. We went out on a date for some good pizza. He opened doors for me, made sure that I didn’t walk on the curbside of the sidewalk. E was a complete gentleman. After our date we came back to my room to wind down for the night. I kicked his ass in Uno a few times and we chatted a bit, especially about our past so that we could hopefully start fresh. He made me feel comfortable. He made me feel like I could open up again. It was really nice. He stayed the night. It was nice laying next to him. The next day He dropped me off so I could try and meet the band and we met up later that night for another date. When our dinner date ended I had no idea that we would be parting ways. I would only be seeing him the following day for him to take me to the show and then that was it. That would be when we would say our goodbyes until who knows when. Understandably I was a little emotional and upset because I didn’t want to let him go. I didn’t want to say goodbye until it was absolutely necessary to say goodbye. He stayed a little while longer, but my heart sank as he turned to leave. The next morning is just as I thought it would be. E drove me to the concert, I kissed him goodbye, and that was it. I was left on a high, but also a low because I immediately missed him terribly.
        When I returned home, still on a high from both this man and the U2 concert, I was already planning my next visit. Hell, I was planning on a move, which was always the plan whether he was in the picture or not. Everything seemed great. We still talked and spoke about how we missed each other. It was great. Soon approaching was the one year anniversary of my father’s death. Leading up to that day there was no huge emotion one way or another. It was just kind of an empty feeling. That feeling that something was missing. On his death date I had planned to get a tattoo to honor him and take my mom with me. The night before E and I were talking. He had joked about something dealing with us and why it was taking him so long to commit and in that moment in time it rubbed me the wrong way and plus my mind was elsewhere. I told him I was going to bed and said good night. I stayed on social media a few minutes more before reaching back out to him because 1. I wanted to let him know that I really wasn’t in a joking kind of mood because I was going through my own thing, 2. but on the other hand I did need someone to talk to because I really needed to distract my mind, and 3. I couldn’t really fall asleep like I was hoping too. When I reached back out he got snotty in a “Oh now you wanna talk to me?” sort of way. I was caught off guard and really confused as to what he was upset about. I let it go, because I was already going through too much hurt reflecting on the fact that my father had been gone a whole year and since my dad died Father’s Day weekend I had to deal with both of those events at once.
        Reaching back out to E sometime later that I night he expressed he was upset because I was so happy earlier that day then all of a sudden got quiet and that I didn’t tell him what was going on beforehand. Since I didn’t tell him beforehand that I may need alone time due to my grieving he labeled me a liar. I explained several times that when it comes to that my moods are up and down. It’s only been a year. Sometimes I still cry out of the blue. Certain dates, places, songs, and events will make me teary eyed. My life is forever changed. I’ve never dealt with a loss of this magnitude so I don’t know how or when moods will hit me. Sometimes I’m not even sure how to cope. I just do what I can and try to go about my day as normal. For some reason he still didn’t get that. He didn’t get that people take losses differently. E still made it about him being hurt that I still stayed active on social media when I said I was sleeping. Now, for me that says he’s upset about something else and making it about that because there is no way possible that someone would be so furious about something so trivial especially knowing what I was going through that weekend. All of a sudden we went from having fun while we were together when I visited to “I just don’t like you anymore”. All because I was dealing with the one year anniversary of my dad’s death. Let that marinate a bit. I still don’t get it either. The sad part is I still want to make it work. I’m not sure if he’s been so hurt in the past that he thinks everything someone says is a lie, but it just makes me want to protect him more. Although, I know (or at least hope) he doesn’t mean to be so hurtful I don’t deserve to be treated in such a way. I need a man to understand that some days are hard for me. That father’s day weekend will always be a sore spot for me. I deserve to be heard out and have a partner who is willing to communicate. I don’t know what I’ve done for someone to think they can treat me like that. I spent that weekend crying over E when I should have been bonding and healing with my mother. He took that away from me. All I ever wanted was to care for him. That time we had with each other was something great. I saw him as someone I could build with when the time was right. I don’t know how we went from “I miss you” to “I don’t want you”. It breaks my heart. It truly does. I’m not sure what to do, but life must go on even though I do miss him. Maybe we’re not right for each other right now, in this lifetime, or even at all. To think about it that way really sucks, but I don’t have anymore tears to give. For this man I’ve shed them all.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: But Where Is He?

        I’m at an age where I want to find my forever mate. Honestly, I have been at that age for years now, but I guess it hasn’t been in the cards for me just yet. I have no time to invest in a person only to hit a dead end. I am not a finished product nor do I want my partner to be, but I do want a person who is willing to grow. I want a perfect kind of love, in my eyes.
        I want the kind of love where we can both own up to our faults and talk them out. No storming off in a huff. No harsh words in order to win an argument. I want someone who I can genuinely sit down with, talk out, and solve a problem like grown people are supposed to. I want a partner who will make me laugh more than cry. Life is tough enough. Home and your loved ones should be your shelter from the storm. I want a love with a solid foundation of support. I want to support my partner in any dream they have because the ultimate goal I have is for them to be happy and I’d hope they’d want the same for me. I want a love I can trust. I will admit that I have been hurt so much in the past that it is extremely hard for me to trust in another human being, but I do want to believe that trust is something that can and will happen. All I want is honesty because that is something I can give 100% and deserve it right back. I want a love where we’re not making each other pay for past partner’s mistakes. I should not be fixing a broken heart that I did not break. The only thing I can do is prove that I’m not like the rest and stand out above all. I need a partner who I can have deep conversations with. I’m not one for small talk. Random conversations about life, love, interests, and the like are what inspire me. I want a partner that I can share things with. I want to be able to share the things that make me happy whether it be to go to a show to see my favorite band, going to see their favorite speaker, just being able to see the joy in my partner’s eyes as they get to let go and immerse themselves in something that they or I love. I want to be a part of that. I want a love that is goofy. I love to laugh. I love to make people laugh. I love to take a persons pain away by making them smile. I live off of laughter. I also need a love that is serious. I need a partner to understand when I need space, or comfort, or advice. I need a love that is patient. I battle depression and anxiety and know I’m not the easiest person to deal with. I need a person who will take their time. One that will show me empathy. I want a love where the emotional is just as explosive as the physical. I need to get off more than sexually. I need to connect to another person’s mind and feed off of their conversation. I need a partner that pays no mind to man made timelines. If we fall in love by month three or year three it shouldn’t matter. It should all flow naturally. No, “We have to wait until x, y, z time has passed and such and such milestones have been hit.” I once fell in love with a man on the first date and that was the longest relationship I’ve ever had. Love has no schedule. I want a partner who will always want what’s best for me. If they know I deserve a promotion at work, give me that pep talk. If they see I’m discouraged about my weight loss then pull up some meal plans. Be my biggest cheerleader because I sure as hell will be that for you. I want a love that is real. Real love is messy, it’s tough, and it’s exhausting, but if it’s worth it then it is the most beautiful thing on the planet. In my eyes this is what’s perfect.  I deserve this. I deserve to be loved as hard as I love. The only thing I’m waiting for is someone worthy of it.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: When Will We Reclaim Our Crowns?

         I am an African American woman. I take pride in that. I take pride in my culture, our heroes, those who sacrificed, our journey so far, my melanin, and my uniqueness. It does comes with it’s burdens, which are quite obvious and anyone can that see when tuned to any news channel, but I’m still proud. There are some things that do not make me proud. It is the epidemic of our kings and queens shedding their crowns and following in the path of darkness.
        I work in a pretty down and out part of town. I wouldn’t say it’s a horrible part of town, but it is most definitely the hood. Day in and day out I see many black men and women come in several times a day to buy numerous amounts of alcohol. Occasionally you can look into the parking lot and see drug deals go down and people getting high in their cars, and it all just leaves me dumbfounded. Although, none of this affects me personally I still take it personal. Why does no one see a problem with this? Why do neither of these addicts get that much needed wake up call, adjust their crown, and get back to that high road we should all be taking?
        Out of all of the this there is one thing that frustrates me more than anything else. Where I work is a national store. The location where I am now is not where I started. Where I started was at a location in our downtown area. At that location our alcohol only came in 6, 12, 18, etc. packs. So no matter your poison whether it be Budweiser, Miller Lite, Corona, etc you had to get it in a pack. I’ve also worked at other locations and this is also the case. At my current location that’s not how it is. The number of single cans/bottles almost, if not does, outnumber the cases. Many of these customers come in with their last few dollars and can only afford a can or two. No one seems to notice how screwed up this is. You go to a white neighborhood it’s not like that, but you go to a black neighborhood there’s all this easy access to help our people get hooked easier. Why don’t we only have cases? Is it because they know their target audience in this area can’t afford it, but they want their money by any means necessary? I’ve even been to other stores in different cities and states and for the most part customers do NOT have the ability to buy beer by the can. I’m puzzled as to how the people who buy on the regular don’t realize their weakness is being targeted or maybe they do, but their addiction won’t let them care.
        To those who have read my previous writing or know me personally probably also know the other reason why this upsets me so much. Growing up, my father was always very pro-black. I didn’t understand it as a kid, but I definitely get it now. Somewhere along the way he got hooked on heroin. I couldn’t understand how someone who was so self aware became so lost in something that is destroying the black community. I had to watch that day in and day out. Even when I moved to another state I had to hear about it day in and day out. Now that he is gone I’m stuck in a situation where I have to see this every single day. I’m so tired of seeing black men and women destroy themselves. I know it’s not my life and people will do what they please, but we deserve so much more. We are capable of so much more. To see someone waste potential or possibly has a kid, who was like me, hurting to see their parent self destruct, is frustrating. It’s suicide in slow motion. More than that I feel that’s what the system wants. They want to kill us off (or watch us do it ourselves) and we play into it. I just... don’t understand. I want our people to wake up, but we have to want that. We have to want our pride to be bigger than our demons. There’s only so much I can take. I hate seeing this every single day of my life. It makes me bitter. It makes me dread going to work. Seeing grown men pay for beer with coins just because he needs his fix. Seeing these same grown people come in three to four times a day as if something like a job, hobby, or family doesn’t exist.
        When will we wake up? Why is it that the younger generation seems to be more self aware than the older? When did they lose their way? When will we reclaim our crowns?

- Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©
"Sunshine Self", 2017(c)
Photo: Asia Aneka Anderson


My heart was yours to keep.
Turns out my love you didn’t want.
So many yes’s turned to no’s.
So many smiles turned to tears.
Excuses became the norm.
Heartbreak, again my home.
My trust I still tried to keep.
Wanting my faith in you to last.
You placed your insecurities on me.
All the while expanding mine.
You stood emotionless watching regret sting my eyes.
Tears of what I knew would happen.
I only wanted us to be great.
You wanted to be right.
So many no’s turn to silence.
Excuses that just turn to bullshit.
But my heart still beats of hope.
I shared my body and many a longing gaze.
Destined to be one with you.
Fear interrupted.
All that silence turned into accusations.
All the bullshit that just got deeper.
If you clear away the hurt.
If you push aside the bullshit.
You’ll see the vulnerability of my heart.
It is pure.
This feeling is true.
We get to the yes’s.
We dismiss the no’s.
Hang all excuses out to dry.
Trust in us.
Keep my heart.
A heart that’s still full of hope with you.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, Yes/No 2017©

The Story Of The Woman And The Fuckboy: A Twitter Tale


               -Asia Aneka Anderson, The Story Of The Woman And The Fuck Boy: A Twitter Tale 2017©

Live Your Life

They say that time waits for no one,
But some of us just sit and watch the clock.
Mesmerized by the tic and the tock.
They say that time heals all wounds,
But some pains can last a lifetime.
Life is too short,
But the day is long.
People come and go.
Memories fade or sting.
We sit still as time goes by.
Caught up in the never ending cycle of life.
Too busy existing to live.
Still time flies.
Wounds fade from view.
Life goes on.
- Asia Aneka Anderson, Live Your Life 2017©

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Learning To Love Myself

        I’ve finally started back going to therapy. It certainly has been a while. Years in fact. I’m hoping this time I can finally get my life on track and my thoughts clear. My first assignment was to watch a YouTube video of a speaker named Kristen Neff. She’s speaking about self-compassion at a Ted Talk. Self-Compassion is something that I’ve lacked for a very long time. I’m not ever sure when it stopped or if I even had compassion for myself ever.
       I’m often so hard on myself. My biggest obstacle is feeling like I haven’t accomplished all the things I feel a 30 something should have. I don’t have a degree. I’m back living at home. I don’t have a steady “career”, instead I’m stuck in a part time job. I’m not married nor even in a relationship and haven’t been for years. I have no children. I have no accolades. I feel like a failure. My accomplishments seem far and few in between.
       Kristen speaks on how we as people always have kind words of advice to friends but never for ourselves. If I ever heard one of my best friends say the things I just said about myself I’d actually be pissed that they even thought that. “Are you kidding me?! You’re great! We all have setbacks, but you’ll come out on top.” I’ve never received that pep talk from me. I save it for everyone else. I’m not very kind to myself and I don’t deserve to feel the way that I do about me. Not only does my daily life stress me out the way I react to myself stresses me out as well. I’m unsure why this happens. I’m only human. We make mistakes, fail, fall down, and get embarrassed but we judge ourselves so harshly. I know that I am my biggest critic. I knock down everything I try to do. I’ve been trying to write a book/script for several years, but make no progress, because I think my talent is lacking.
      I want to learn to be more kind to myself. I need to love me. I need to support me. All those words of advice that I dish out first need to be lived by me. I am not failure, but I have failed at some things. I need to embrace that and keep going. I need to strive. Loving myself seems to be the hardest. I see so many broken things in myself and I’m not sure how to glue together the pieces. This is where my self-compassion will have to rear it’s head to tell me that it’s okay. It’s all easier said than done, but I’m worth the love I need to give myself.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2017©

The Game Is Over

Your words so cold.
Yet don’t cut deep.
You thought they had an effect on me.
For I am not shook.
Games you said you didn’t play.
But your number is on the leaderboard.
You failed to see my score is higher than yours.
At these games I am a pro.
For you are not the first one.
String me along while I lead you further.
This is a two player game.
You pressed start a little too late.
Although this is a game we play.
I go into each round optimistic.
Instead of opponents we become teammates.
Crushing whatever boss comes at us.
But you’re against me which makes me against you.
To the next level we go.
Losing rings.
Slipping on banana peels.
Dodging tossed barrels and colorful ghosts.
Waiting for the inevitable “Finish Him”.
These games are no fun when you’re pitted against each other.
The rematches grow tiresome.
We search our stash for the cartridge of “Us Against The World”.
Somehow I keep finding copies of “You Against Me”.
A partnership full of the wrong X’s and O’s.
A glitch that never corrects when blown into.
An unfortunate fatality.

- Asia Aneka Anderson, The Game Is Over, 2017

I Am Me

I am my skin.
I cannot hide this melanin.
I am my hair.
Every kink and every curl.
I am my big lips and big nose.
And every feature they imitate.
I am rhythm.
And the blues that comes with it.
I am our suffering.
And the inevitable success.
I am my mother and my father.
And every ancestors blood runs through my veins.
I am unique.
I am me.
There is none other.
No one empowered quite like me.
Unbreakable like me.
Black like me.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, I Am Me, 2017©

I Think I Can

         I don’t know why I find it so hard to write. This once was my only love. I could sit down and write an entire story in a matter of hours. The words would flow so perfectly and easily. I was so confident in my ability to tell a story. It didn’t matter how serious or silly the subject. It all came so easy. I felt like I was a natural. No, my grammar is not perfect and in a rush my spelling would surely be off too, but none of that mattered to be because I WAS a natural. Now when I write it’s like learning a new language. You retain the basics, but you can’t fully grasp the entire understanding of whatever the hell it is you’re talking about. I’m easily distracted. I all too easily doubt myself. It’s very crippling. Losing motivation in the thing I loved most is like not being able to breathe. I haven’t been able to breathe for a long time. At times I can catch my breath and everything seems fine and brand new then all of a sudden something knocks the wind out of me again. I once read a quote that said something to the effect that “I’ve fallen in love with depression”. I in fact have. It gives me every excuse in the world. Can’t write? I’m depressed. No motivation? I’m depression. It’s my scapegoat. It’s also my hindrance. As easy as it is to say that my lack of motivation stems from depression, it’s so hard to burst through that wall to knock this demon on its ass. Hiding behind this wall of mental illness is easy until you realize that there’s no way around, above, or under that wall. You just sit there, stare, and wonder how you got trapped in the first place and how long have you been cowering behind this wall. I’m so so tired of being trapped, but I know nothing different. I so much so want to be a best selling author. I want that more than anything. I want my words to help people. I have so many stories that I know for a fact would reach and touch so many, but I can’t get past myself. I am forever standing in my own way. The fear and the doubt has left me without passion. I write little posts like this in hopes to get me motivated and to give me a little push, and above all else, to get to the nitty gritty of what I’m feeling, but it hardly ever goes beyond that. How do I get back to what I love? I need to find a way to stop me from stopping me. That’s the only thing between me and creativity. I guess, I’ll have to remind myself that there’s always baby steps. To not beat myself up over the big picture and instead celebrate my small victories. It’s easier said than done. I’ve been beating myself up for so long that it’s hard to remember what a self pat on the back feels like. I’ll get there. I will definitely get there.

-Asia Aneka Anderson