The Box Assignment

I wanted to bring this box..

It’s measurements are 16x14x7. Empty, solid and already decorated.

On the outside there are large, watercolor- painted flowers; mostly in pink and purple. I love flowers!

The petals are shades of blue and green. A deep teal color floods the background.

There’s a flap with a magnetic closure that snaps the box shut. The flap is covered in gold foiled polka dots. Gold is my favorite accent!

A perfect representation; powerful in size, simple, yet bold. Home-goods was spot on!

My mom gave me the box, unbeknownst to her what my intentions were.

Now, what to fill it with? The inside of this box is already lined with a paper that is light pink with a brush pattern.

Ok. Let’s dig through this pile of life. I’ve got some bubble wrap, a few post-it notes, a bible, maybe a mirror?

Yikes.. there goes that bottle of tears, I can throw in half of a heart, shards of glass, unkind words, reminisce of a sandwich, a couple of diplomas, some likes on IG, empty relationships, busted hopes, deferred dreams, memories.. yeah… those memories.

The ones with the white house, yard space, barking dog, barbeques and family ties.

That took up a lot of space. I don’t know if there is room for anything else.

But these should fit too. I have photographs of smiles, scented candles, passport stamps from adventures, birthday cards, hugs and kisses, heavy duty tape, non-scale victories, a voice with passion, Starbucks gift cards, doodles from Olivia, a desire to empower, group text messages, a shot glass, a journal of wishes, nail polish, family-dynamics, more bubble wrap, yes.. more bubble wrap and the other half of a heart.

I wanted to bring this box..

It’s a 16x14x7. Empty, solid and an already decorated box. A perfect representation; powerful in size, simple, yet bold.

It was just too heavy to carry.

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Skinned knees and shit

It doesn’t matter how good it sounds. How logical it seems. “In the long run it makes sense”. Walking away is and has never been easy.

Have you ever ran and tripped ( maybe as a kid) and skinned your knee? It’s red and bleeding and the skin has clearly been scrapped off. It hurts to walk. The tears are from shock. The pain hasn’t even really set in yet. You’re just reliving the trauma. How did that happen?! Oh yeah. I remember now. :: Cringe :: stupid! stupid! Stupid!

I’m never doing that again.

Now it’s time for the soap and water or peroxide (my mom is in nursing). You have to clean it or you’re loosing your leg! It’s not alcohol thank God! but we all know it’s gonna sting one way or another.

The pouring of the peroxide feels cool and painless… then it begins… the sting and simultaneous foaming. ( Fuuuck! That stings! ) ok but it’s working right?!

Ok I did my part. I handled it… like Olivia Pope.

Anddddd… the healing process begins. The ointment, the bandaids, the soreness, the limping, the discoloration, the accidental bang ( fuck that hurt! ) the itching, the scabbing.

Ok. The pain went away. The skin is growing back– you can see the pigment… Finally. Healing.

Pretty much back to normal.. but the scar remains. Reminding you to.. idk… slow the hell down, stop texting and walking, 3 shots of tequila is enough, the railing is there for a reason, DON’T DO THAT AGAIN!

( more than likely, we do it again.. smh )

We’ve all been there. We all know that we will heal.. but the process is rough. I’m just saying.

-Candace

Love? 

I’m going into be honest with you… I have no idea what REAL love is , looks like or sounds like. 

At first I probably thought it was a given. You know like you’re born and your parents love you. They ohhh and ahhh at everything you do. There are hugs and kisses and gifts and smiles and happiness. And the words.. “I love you “. That’s love right ? Your whole family.. well maybe half of the family expresses love with affection and kind words, where the other half expresses love in gifts and quality time .. perhaps somewhere in the middle. Or at least I think that’s what happened. 

As time goes on, people enter and exit your life. Friends, neighbors, classmates, teachers, relatives, lovers, strangers.. and somewhere in those interactions you realize that what you thought was love, wasn’t really love. 

Your mom can’t say the words but show it. Your dad shouts it from the roof top but there is no action. Your brother kinda just floats somewhere in the middle. You, your friends and family may do and say hurtful things and still stick around or disappear into the past. Confused? Me too. 

Ok so maybe society is right.. maybe love is sex; intimacy. That one on one private time. It’s special. It’s sacred. Until you get come out of the bathroom and he’s gone. Ok.. maybe let me try again with someone else. A handful of late night phone calls, I miss you’s, I only like you as a friend, what’s good for tonight, who’s your friend?, some condoms, some trust, maybe even a few “I love you’s”… and still no love. 

Am I too tall? Ok I’ll hang out with girls my height. Am I mean? Ok I’ll smile more. Do I talk too much? Ok I’ll be quiet.  Am I not generous? Ok I’ll buy that for you. Am I too fat? Ok I’ll lose weight. Am I a prude? Ok let’s bone. Am I boring? Ok I’ll take up a few hobbies. Am I ugly? I’ll get some makeup. Am I stupid? Ok I’ll go to an Ivy League. Am I too easy? Ok I’ll be celibate. 

What is it? Why don’t you love me? What do I need to do to get you to love me? How many time must I be fooled by false love? How many more times will I question my worth? How many more time will I fear the words? How many more time will I give up my body just to feel closeness?How many more nights will I go sleepless? How many more times will I cry to God that he stop playing with my heart? How many more times will I mistake love for loneliness? How many more times will I fill this emptiness with hopelessness?

To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I love myself at this point. Maybe I do, but then again I have no idea what REAL love is , looks like or sounds like. 

-Candace 

Thoughts while I’m waiting .. 

God’s definition of your husband is that man who helps you become the best version of yourself and wants you to help him do the same. -The Wait, Devon Franklin and Meagan Good

Me:  How comforting. Who doesnt want such a partner? I do. 

Me: God provides love, purpose, connection and joy. He has surely blessed my husband with these attributes.

Me: What about when you want it to be something to so bad, that you may even start to force it into the mold?

Me: How can you tell when it’s real?

Me: Quoting.. “Even so ought husbands also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his own wife loveth himself:” Ephesians 5:28

Me: Does that now make it real? 

Me: What about when you feel so alone, that this vow now seems stupid.

Me:  I can feel myself getting angry waiting on a text or a call from someone who said I was their main focus? Contemplating going back through a door that I left cracked just incase of lonely nights, that the wind just swung wide open and is whispering my name.  

Me: There was this man on the train the other day.. Probably in his mid to late 60s. He was being extra and was mumbling ( angrily ) about being single for the past 5 years lol. I thought to myself .. I absolutely get it sir!

Me: In all honesty, I do believe that my best friend is out there. That God is preparing me to meet him. I will know it’s real when I can talk to him about my prayers, laugh with him, cry with him, flirt with him, learn with him and love with him. 

Me: He will propose marriage to me. 

Me: Always hoping that the next guy, is the last guy.