I Have Zero Self-Preservation...

Either really brave or really dumb.

You know, I don’t have a great deal of fucks to give about too much. I’ve been that way most of my life. If you asked my momma, she’d probably tell you I really never gave a fuck from day 1.

I have a blind spot for loyalty, though. As much as I am loyal to a fault, myself, I get tripped up over the perceived loyalty in people I’m affiliated with. Be mindful of how I phrased that, because you can know a bitch for 30, 40 years and that bitch can kill everything you ever felt for them in less than two minutes.

Believe it.

Exhibit A, Your Honor.

My former best friend of 25 years. Loved this bitch like family, and when I say I would have done anything for her, believe me that was never a question.

We had a falling out, mostly over built up animosity but it’s neither here nor there. Here is what does matter: 5 years later, I see this bitch on my ex-husbands social media congratulating him and his new wife on their marriage.

And the manner in which she did so? Oh, bitch. Had it been someone else, I would have driven to her house and throat punched her in front of her kids. Neighbors, too.

Mind you, this bitch said some of the most foul shit I’ve ever heard in my life to me, but I let it ride because I still had love for her in my heart. I could have done all of that other shit, told everything I knew to her baby’s daddy, spilled the beans to every bitch we ever crossed paths with.

I’m just not built that way.

If I know some shit about you, that shit goes to the grave with me. I don’t care what circumstance may arise. The fact remains that my character isn’t determined by your behavior. I don’t give a fuck about the scenario; it doesn’t change who I am.

Not in my darkest time, not in the roughest season. I’m not saying shit on your name to anyone. Partially because I don’t want to have to speak to anyone, but in reality, that would make me the same weak-fabric fashioned type of bitch that you are.

Nope.

The downside to this is that I stick around for way too fucking long. I’ll stay until I hate your guts, simply because I don’t quit on the handful of people I let myself care for.

However, when I’m done. Shit. You can walk past me on the street; I won’t even blink. You’re fucking dead to me.

I think sometimes that leads people to believe there is wiggle room with me, just because it takes so long for me to throw in the towel.

There isn’t. Nobody has been resurrected after being dead to me.

You ain’t Jesus, homeboy.

Get the fuck outta here.

I swear though, people push the policy. Just smacking the buttons and looking for a reaction and I have to remind myself that when I allow myself to snap, I’m not going to be able to walk it back.

It’s going to be the old me doing the shit that the old me did.

That’s not a good idea.

That’s such a bad fucking idea.

I keep ignoring, deleting, blocking. Not for me, dude, for you.

I’m asking you, seriously, don’t make me walk out of this element I’m in. You won’t get this me. You’ll get the 1999 version of me, and I know you factually know why that’s a horrible fucking idea.

You saw the 1999 me. That bitch had no sense and zero regard for anyone’s feelings.

Do yourself a favor and let me stay this slightly more human version of me. This is the last time I’ll ask.

-Q