wife, woman, friend

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my beginning was his end. And after all, we were just friends. Although, in my world, I was his girl though I would pretend to be his wife saying shit like "it's only so many years in a woman's life". Riight, so I gave him three. Yet, he had the audacity to step up to me with his Donnel Jones "I don't know where I wanna be" type shit. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He hit me with the forehead kiss, told me life was journey and he was ready to explore this shit. And I was pissed, to me he was a hypocrite. Like a fake preacher in a poor pit. He left me sick. And though he didn't choose me, doesn't make him right nor wrong. Just because he was the epitome of my life doesn't make me wrong nor right. Like I said, I was his friend, not his wife. And I should've acted within that capacity. And maybe then this break-up would have been just one of those things instead of a fucking tragedy.

And all that I spent being mad at him... Hell, I should've been mad at me.

After all, I was the one who gave him the key to my house and let him hang clothes in my closet, just in case we go out. Not to mention, washing all his dirty clothes just to make a full load. And let him finish off all the leftovers so the food don't go old. For the times we rawed off, because he was all out of rubber or the times where I showed him more support than his father, brother, sister, and mother. 'Cause those same people tried to dial my number when they tried to get in touch. And he received mail in my address just because he would be here so much. He had the control to the remote control, to the TV, DVD, and radio. And even though his name was not on my lease, he got shit in my house that's off limits to me. Like his side of the bed and his stash of weed. But none of this obligates him to me. Because not once did we exchange vows, and if I knew then what I know now then I probably would've listened when he said he had some shit he had to get out of his system. But see I was busy bitching, like I was about to hit him because at the back of my mind all I could fathom was how much I was gon' miss him. But just because I'm crying doesn't mean that I'm the victim, it just means I was scared to let him go 'cause some other chick might get him.

And that was my fault because that was my decision.

I should've never put my heart in my mind's position. But, I, couldn't shake him he was like a bad habit. And all this for a nigga that was just average doing average nigga shit. Like talkin' out the side of his neck and thinking with his dick. But I must admit, he was the one I wanted to commit. So either I wasn't living up to my potential or I was just an average chick. But I choose to believe I was a woman caught up in a feeling of physical and emotional who was way too willing to give her all to a man. And though it may sound stupid, guess what? I would do it all again, just next time, for my husband and not that nigga I call my friend. "