Ever since I was little, I wanted a white boyfriend… Like for no fucking reason. I don't know if it's because of the porn I watched, Maybe I'd rather experience racism from the source, or whatever the fuck is going on. As a black femme, I've always been hated on, and it's not like I think I'm ugly or being black is a problem. It's that everyone ELSE around me thinks it's a problem and they don't leave me the fuck alone about it. I'm always blamed for not being treated right. “You need to date your own race because black people need to stick together in these trying times” but then I'm too dark for them niggas. “You need to date white men because your wig is fucked up and pasta and lobster” Bitch I'm allergic to shellfish and he's only fucking me because he hates his parents. “You need to date some other variation of race out there” “Go where you're loved!” Go where I'm loved? I don't even know what that looks like! I grew up watching my mother in the bathroom every morning religiously putting on borderline expired blue colored contacts and skin whitening cream if the sun decided to bless her extra that day.
People all the time tell me I need to love myself and then just as I'm inching closer to the nut I was about to bust the vibrator dies… People try humbling me every day and simultaneously tell me that I should love myself. Bitch, which one is it?
I hate my own imagination because it's the only drug that I actually HAVE to try and stop. Like yes you can put down the physical crack, the physical Tina, the physical weed or whatever. But you can't put down your own brain unless you like kill yourself, and I like my life so I'm not doing that.
But yeah, I can play in my head all day and I can commit to the white man in my head who's perfect and isn't racist and against all odds actually LIKES me but then I can switch it up. maybe I want a nice chocolate man instead for one of my daydreams. or a Persian man, or whatever flavor of nigga I decide that day.
I'm well aware that I'm mentally ill and my daydreams could potentially drive me further into psychosis or whatever, and my poor wall has suffered enough from me hitting that shit 24/7 when a certain audio stimulates my brain, but would I be slowing my own healing process by admitting that I actually don't give a fuck?
right now, my brain is fixated on some white redheaded man named Kameron. Writing about this shit and reading it back is making my eye twitch, but I know some 20 something year old woman going through loneliness and hormonal issues might need to feel less alone out there so fuck it. Anyways he's of course 6'2 with freckles and he's not fat but he's not skinny either. like he's bordering a dad bod, but he's lean if that makes sense. I love him so much because he's the only man that I could yell at him, smack him, scratch him and steal his wallet and he'll still love me the same. Can't find true love like that in real life.
Alright….. I've done enough of my due diligence to help some lonely woman out there, but this is getting embarassingggg…… THANKS FOR READING STAY TUNED FOR MORE <3