Life has landed me in Morrow Georgia about 20 minutes south of Atlanta. I left N.Y. in a hurry, maybe too much of a hurry. I found an ATM card of this guy who has either fucked my ex-girlfriend or he is just persistent in his efforts to be her friend until he gets her in the right place and time to fuck her when she has her guard down. He paid for her a Hawaii trip two years ago, and she claims he slept on the floor, which I highly doubt. I found one ATM card of his a month ago and I left her for three days. With this second card, I think I’m gone for good.
I kind of think she wants me gone. We’ve argued about this guy Thurston since the Hawaii trip. I seriously expressed my dislike and comfortlessness (not a word) and she seriously has discarded my feelings on the subject. So maybe this was her nice way of or round about in-direct way of getting me out of her life. Well, when a bitch wants you gone, you can force yourself through the bullshit and stay or you can just leave. I chose the ladder; no crying, asking why, no tearing up shit, just pack ya shit and leave.I’m having small thoughts of going back, but I can’t trust her to leave this guy alone, and I’m not dealing with that.
So I’m in Georgia now, I’m thinking to find me a beautiful, thick, big booty, dark to brown skinned girl, who wears her own hair, to love. I’m thinking of starting a long distance relationship with Shakira, she’s my cousin Carla’s 1st cousin on her father’s side. Shakira is 22, a senior in college, and beautiful, and has some big tidys. But do I really wanna try to be with someone 8 yrs my junior. I already tried that with someone 6 yrs my junior and look where I’m at; searching for a new love.
People say I’m hurt, but I really ain’t. You hurt when you at home crying to ya momma like, “why don’t she love me.” I’m in Georgia kicking it. I don’ even busted two nuts with another bitch’ now how is that for hurt? I love myself too much to be sittin’ around sulkin over some bitch who didn’t appreciate me and all of my qualities.
I’m missing New York, but I know all it will take is one bite of a sweet, round ass, Georgia peach to make me forget all about it and Watrina. I wanted the New York life, the glory of making it in the hardest city in the world to make it in. I wanted the music industry. I’m goin through some serious withdrawal symptoms over these past three days, and that is what this letter is about; to ease my symptoms of withdrawal. Funny though, my urges to call Watrina and hear what she has to say, and maybe go back to what I called home, are not that strong.
I have this feeling that this move could turn out for the best, especially once I get the hell outta my aunts smoky ass house. She and her son are depressing me. All she does is sit on the couch all day and puff on cigarettes. All he does is sleep until it’s time for him to work his 4 PM – 12 AM security guard shift. He don’t go nowhere else, wears a busted fro, ain’t got no style, and no bitches. I think at age 21, he is still al virgin. It probably ain’t safe around here. Those are the type that kill everybody in they sleep and then kill themselves, or call the cops and plead insanity.
I’m in a toss up right now, but really I’m not because I ain’t goin back to Watrina after this. I’M THROUGH!
I don’t know what my future holds but its gotta hold something better than the bitch I’m thinking of spending my life with having many male friends who don’t seem like friends at all, and one nigga giving her his ATM card.