There were FDAliens (hyper-attractive female FDA students), and there were Femaliens (women in general).
Loved equally, but if I got my pinchers on ONE OF ANY, it’s all shut down.
And at one point in my life, I would flood ANY of their inboxes with poetry and CashApp accounts with cash.
It all started in 2012, when I first came home from incarceration. Because of how well I handled myself while locked and earned some key point(er)s in the halfway house, I deemed it necessary to love my SELF more when I got free. It dawned on me that, though I can blame some for chipping away at my inner-security, no one’s going to care if I have years to cry. No one, from friends to family to foe.
They won’t care, because I’ve survived it all.
And NO WOMAN WANTS A CRYING MAN.
Fuck all that “men cry in the dark” bullshit.
So, here I am.
Reintroducing women (and my women) to my #worldatlarge.
And trying to save men from #theworldatlarge.
The truth is too sensitive to share.
I’ll just pray for you all.
Maybe my life will make room for a Femalien.
Maybe even… an FDAlien!
Or just an angel at my table.
