On Moving On & Starting Over, Again
The day after crying myself to sleep
The truth to the matter is that I fear being alone at the age of 30, 40, and even 50. When I envision myself in my 60’s I see a soft older black woman with curly gray hair sitting in a leather chair in the middle of a library built inside of her mansion. The truth to the matter is, I don’t know that I can really see myself with children and my family’s wants are always projected onto me. I always feel like I’m trying to fulfill their wants as fast as I can by doing what it is they’re asking me as soon as possible, but now, I’m tired and sad, I’m waking up from a long night of crying myself to sleep.
“Sierra, you’re going to have kids one day.” Well, when? I’m 25 years old and I have a cat, I think I’m on my way to my mansion and library vision. Maybe I’m being over dramatic but there are so many articles that talk about how the black male population just simply doesn’t have enough options for black women. I think about my options around me, there isn’t many. The person I’m moving on from — I’m tired of, he makes me think to myself all the time, “I don’t matter,” because he has so many experiences in life that I simply don’t have.
I wake up everyday and always focus on my craft, my books, my clients, my bills — that’s what I’m really good at. When it comes to…
