Be You

If You Want Me — Total




fact or fiction?


I’m having deja vu as I write this…and hoping it’s a sign.




Thoughts & Wonderings


Are you who I think you are?

Am I buggin’?

…is it even possible?

wynter: h a  why  not ?



If you are who I’m hoping you are,

then I’m living in a fantasy.

Never been the type to beg for attention…

somehow still always get what who I want.

At least I hope so.


If you are who I’m fiendin‘ for you to be,

then I want you in the worst way.


If you are who I’m praying you are,

then why me?




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Somewhere in Brooklyn


Be You


Ex-Factor — Lauryn Hill


The Archives

vol. 1


Funny how things turned out.

After all them lies that you love me,

And it was me you couldn’t do without.


Shit sounded good for a bit.

Eventually, crying got trying.

Constantly lying and fighting.

I grew to expect that shit.

Every two months: new drama, new bitch.


Why did I stay?

Fuck was I on?

Late nights watching you sleep, with my side eye on.

What can I say?

I was young. I was dumb.

And you?

A creep from jump.


Nevermind all that, because you were my type.

And it was from your apple, that I wanted to bite.

I can still think back to some of those nights.

Sun coming up, you and me on the phone.

Or those late nights coming to see you, with my work clothes on.


In the beginning, we talked. We confessed.

You were hurting because of your ex.

Like a fool, I chose to stay.

Thought my love was the key to you seeing things my way.


Loved you with a passion.

The shit I always dreamed of.

Knee buckling, stomach clenching, real love.


But that love never came.

All the wack ass games.

How the fuck was I your girlfriend, but blocked from your page?

Fights and arguments,

to restore the peace I took the blame.


A man you were never.

Your stupid ass really thought you were clever.


Love me? You never did.

I know you remember when I could have had your kid.


Wanted to leave, even tried to sometimes.

But my heart kept pulling me.

So, I ignored your lies.

Found condoms, text messages, flicks of ass and thighs.

Begging for that bitch to call you, and when you in DC if you could come over sometime.



A girl then. A woman now.

Never will I forget that I chose you. And you chose them.




when the shit is still rings true four years later …




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Somewhere in Brooklyn

Be You


Pretty Girl Rock — Keri Hilson 

brown girl


smile, brown girl

for all that life offers —

quests and paved ways.


in your beauty

marked by

perfect bee-stung lips and

chocolate puddin’ limbs.

you remain tenacious, brown girl

despite the struggle.


befriend, brown girl

for life’s too rough to

combat in isolation.


stand erect with good intent and

smile, with warmed eyes


understand, my friend

for this will take some time.

remain steadfast!

the best follows your steps

you’re just as good,

as smart,

as able.

beware, brown girl

the game is rigged and

because of this

you’ll work the hardest.


Live, brown girl

for life’s finite.






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Somewhere in Brooklyn

Be You

Crew — Goldlink ft. Shy Glizzy & Brent Faiyaz



don’t worry, be happy

(B. McFerrin)


Anxiety always seems to strike at the worst and most random moments.

I’ve spent this week, or the past two weeks, getting back into the swing of things. Traveling from borough to borough, I’ve either worked physically or mentally — both being equally demanding.


I was inspired by a conversation that I had the other day.


Would you consider yourself patiently waiting, or awaiting patiently,” a gentleman asked me.

Prior to this he quizzed, “Are you patient?


I can always appreciate unexpected intellectual discourse.


I’d like to think that I’m pretty patient,” I mused smiling casually. And it was true.


We engaged in banter over the differentiation between waiting and awaiting. Which brought me to the evening I wrote this.


Patience is a virtue.


I’m at the point in my development where I’m focused on growth. Evolution.


I’ve tried to bypass any emerging feelings of jealousy — one emotion that I’ve practiced controlling. Lately I’ve been seeking out the benefits in situations — even if I’m not positively affected.





Still working on it though!


As a people of the 21st century, we’ve grown accustomed to instant gratification. This insatiable hunger for quick and continuous delivery can cause an immense amount of pressure.


. slow down .





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Somewhere in Brooklyn

Be You


More Than A Woman — Aaliyah



Feminism & Womanhood (Part 1)


Candace Bushnell is a feministic genius! She’s written works such as Lipstick Jungle, The Carrie Diaries, Trading Up, and most notably Sex & The City.

Set in the 90s and early 2000s, SATC follows the lives of four, uniquely successful New York City women. You may be reading this wondering, what can I possibly have in common with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha — Manhattan women who would now be in their 50s. Although the show is almost twenty years old, these characters still reign supreme. When watching the show, I oftentimes find myself relating to, and mirroring each of the four ladies.

Sex & The City Pilot Episode


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Somewhere in Brooklyn

Be You


True Colors — The Weeknd




imy, baby


With over seven years in, I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve broken up. Recently, what I have noticed is the heightened level of effort being brought to the table — from both of us. Before, we would go days, then weeks, and sometimes months without speaking after we had a fallout. Now, it seems like bae’s willing to swallow his pride, thus averting these long gaps of being out of touch.

The other night he asked me a question,

“Would you marry me?”

Laughing out of surprise and somewhat disbelief, I flipped the question, “Would you marry me?”


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Somewhere in Brooklyn

Be You




Feelin’ Myself  — Nicki Minaj ft. Beyonce




Are we … insecure?


We are all perfectly imperfect. In some way or another, we do things to cover up or compensate for our shortcomings. Even if we are totally content with ourselves, some of us still have attention-seeking behavior.

Is this a bad thing?


Hey Gorgeous

I’d like to consider myself a feminist. Although not always easy, I’d rather uplift and empower my sistren, than use negativity to bring her down. Especially online.

Riddle me this, when you post a picture, what’s your purpose for doing so?

Praise & attention?

Capturing memories?

Or, do you do it because somehow snapping five pictures, then choosing the seemingly most flattering one to post on a social media app boosts your ego?

Many of the these “insta models” are indeed beautiful. I, too, enjoy taking certain in-the-moment photos, but I have to be much more vigilant about my online persona. So some pictures are left private.


One is Never Enough

At the beginning of one of our many restarts, bae would occasionally send me a picture. Before that, I never received a picture from him. I could tell that the flick was a screenshot from Snapchat, and I couldn’t help but wonder who else was fawning over the picture.

I would have been much more inclined to savor the moment if I knew that the picture was exclusively for me. As to not disrupt his complacency, I replied with a simple emoji and continued with my day.



Sharing is Caring

Don’t get me wrong, I oftentimes find inspiration from some of the photos and videos that I scroll through. There is so much untapped and underrated talent online! (cough)

I’m sure that some of these inspirations have strengthened both my inner-self and my relationships.

Yet, if I find myself spending more than 10 minutes enamored by my IG feed, I have no qualms about pressing the home button and returning to reality.

The surge of social media shows just how many fish there are in the sea. What I’ve learned is to love who loves you. Unconditionally.


Besides, what do we have when our beauty fades?






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