SHE vs. ME: It Was the War Within for Me

By Tee Hubbs

The greatest war that you will ever fight against is who? Yup! You! Mind Vs. Heart. Flesh Vs. Spirit. Past Vs. Future. In my case, it was SHE VS. ME. Listen! Life became different when I figured out I could put a name to my hurt. "SHE" was my hurt. And I used SHE as a personal affectionate pronoun to get me by in life. Don't worry y'al

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tee Hubbs
• Release date: Apr 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737008415

Tee Hubbs

Tamyra Tee Hubbs Hubbard is a poet and Christian rap artist that uses creative speaking as an outlet to express her feelings and thoughts. Her two poems, "She vs. Me" and "Scream," both featured on her Rachel's tomb album, have been streamed all across the country. Tee started writing poetry 25 years ago when she wrote her first poem only human for a school project. After a great response from classmates and being encouraged to read it in front of the class she knew that she has found her niche. Over the years she has been embedded in her First ministry, her only son. Her ultimate goal in life was to make sure he stayed in the right path with God. Tee is a free spirit with a slight quirkiness, and likes being, "The Weirdo." She boldly lives by stand for something or fall for anything. And T stands strongly for her faith in Jesus. Her favorite scriptures, Psalm 34:4, Philippians 4:6, and Matthew 6:26-34.

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Disclaimer

Before we begin this journey, please be advised that this book contains words that aren’t words. But if you ask me, they should be.

Let’s go!

Welcome!

Hi! I’m Tee-Hubbs. It’s so nice to meet you! Thank you for investing in freedom! I know you have no clue who I am (or you do). If you don’t, it’s cool. I’m just a nobody, trying to tell everybody about somebody who can save anybody. I love that song, don’t you? In other words, I’m just another chick out here writing a book. Just another chick out here giving her side of the story. If you are struggling with at least one thing that I was set free from, I pray this helps you. If you don’t have any of these struggles, I’m sure you know someone who does, so please, pass it along, be a blessing and invest in someone else’s freedom! (Although a lot is going on, I’m sure you can find yourself somewhere.)

Blessings!

Preface

I’m not from the hood. I didn’t grow up in the projects. I never went without. I always got anything I ever wanted. Spoiled? That’s an understatement. Real talk, I had no idea what the projects even were until I saw them on TV. The truth is I’m a country girl that grew up in a single-family home that my grandfather built. Real talk, we were always in name-brand clothes and shoes.

As a child, I thought we were rich. I would go shopping with my grandmother, and she would say things like, Put it on my tab, that’s stuff that you only heard on TV.

I would be like, Go Mom-Mom (lol).

I’ve never murdered anyone. Although, I have thought about it intensely (lol). I said all of that to say, even though I was raised by a good family, raised in the church, and got whatever I wanted doesn’t mean that life was perfect.

I battled liking females for a long time. Yes, I was a lesbian. I was flirty, seductive, promiscuous, and lustful. I was angry, mad, argumentative, always ready for a fight, bitter, unforgiving, full of rage, and full of resentment. I was envious. I would covet people, relationships, and things. I had idols; I was stubborn; I was a part of witchcraft (I went to see psychics). I was a liar, deceiver, and good manipulator. So, come. Take a ride with me.

Thank you all for going on this ride with me. It was a long journey. And honestly, I’m still on it. I have by far not arrived anywhere. The only difference is right now, instead of driving, I’m on the passenger side chillin’. I decided to let Jesus take the wheel and drive. My full trust is in Him and where He will lead me. Sometimes we will go through some tunnels, and it may get dark. But always remember that you’re riding with the guiding light. No, silly, not the soap opera, Jesus! There are some bridges to cross. There may even be a few detours. The best thing is God knows that these things are ahead before we even get to them.

All my East Coast and Down South compadres, are you familiar with the Chesapeake Bay Tunnel? Have you ever been there? Have you ever been approaching that tunnel (or a large bridge that frightens you) and feel this gasp go through your heart? Listen, one who knows that tunnel may not tell a first-timer that it is coming up to save them from anxiety, emotions that may create fear, and stories in our own heads. That’s how God is with us. He knows what is ahead of our journey. Sometimes He will send a warning to let us know what is ahead. And sometimes He will just say, Buckle up, buttercup.

So, buckle your seat belts, my friends! We’re about to go on a road trip through—truth.

She vs. Me

The overflowing of the river sounding off as a gentle emotion

Waving the devotion of the bigger ocean to an on-forward march motion

Now I am focused,

Ready for a new start

No longer will I be a robot were the words of Trip Lee

No longer will I be brainwashed, a zombie lurking around trying to find This person I once called Me

Interacting with jealousy and envy and not happy with being free

Time to make the acts of She the past of Me

Who was She?

Oh, you remember her

She is the one they called Pooky, said you’re pretty

But still, she felt inadequately disabled because God didn’t show her the Favor in the architecture of her figure

So, she rebelled and forged a signature on some literature, which were Life-changing documents that compelled her silhouette to bondage

And giving herself to those who only wanted just a hot commodity

And only saw and wanted that one thing

Guiding her to the unsuccessful road of insecurity

Whew! What a relief, She was not Me

Now I can move on to bigger and better things

Who was She?

C’mon, you remember her

She was the one they called, Tee

She listened to that muscular tone that sprouted from the Adam’s apple When it said, Imma take you to the chapel

She even allowed the femininity of a new chapter

To bring rapture to her stature

Which carried her character down the hill

As she passed by Jack and went to Jill

Girl! You going to Hell!

But I love her, she said

But I lust her is what she meant

And you are defiling your bed

Don’t you remember what the Word said?

This, in its creation, is an abomination

Oh, I forgot to mention that she also craves attention

But this, this will be the lesson that teaches her that she will never find Love in a sex session

And you won’t get your blessings until out comes the confessions

And you are through with depression and those lonely nights you become Content with

Now send that via text message since that’s the only way you Communicate with it

What a relief, She was not Me

Now I can move on to bigger and better things

Who was she?

Do you still have to ask me?

She was Pooky. She was Tee. They thought She was Me.

But She was full of broken pieces

So, She couldn’t have been Me

She was lost

She was hurt

She couldn’t have been Me

She was bitter and confused

So, nope! She couldn’t have been Me

She was abused and emotionally used

She took every blow, every no, every time self-esteem made her feel low

Every heartbreak that caused a heartache creating an earthquake in her Heart and her mind, and now they lie desolate on her side, and her soul Cries!!!!!

My, my, I am so glad She was not Me

Now I can move on to bigger and better things

I can finally look beyond this flesh and see what the spirit brings

A new beginning. My true identity.

Finally! I have broken the chains of She

And She has become the testimony overcome by Me

So, now let me introduce you to Me!

The start of a new day with a new directional way

I am capital T-A-M-Y-R-A

Introduction

Real Talk – you know my story may not be your story as your story will not be my story. But the moral of the story is we all have one. We all have chapters that have been written and chapters that we don’t quite know the ending to. Yet, all of our stories are of equal importance. At some time or another and some currently, still, we have all had to battle our greatest enemy—ourselves.

You have all heard it before. It’s the battle of the mind. The battle of Flesh vs. Spirit. Mind vs. Heart. You vs. You. In my case, it was She vs. Me. Past vs. Future. Evil vs. Good. Whatever you want to call it, it was the biggest battle of my life and a constant tug of war.

Some may hear my story and say, Oh, that’s nothing. Some may say, I would have never made it through. Others will say, I needed that. I’m coming for the ones who check other cause…

Real talk, battles get tough

Real talk, trials get rough

Real talk, and when I struggle, I feel like I’ve had enough

Battling oppression and depression made me feel like giving up

And when suicide would rise,

I felt like I would never overcome

And whatchu mean I can’t date HER?

Cause I’m a girl?

Miss me with that, bruh!

You don’t even know true love

Real talk, once the devil gets into your mind, he turns and twists your thoughts

Into his playground,

Then he’s the only one who’s having fun,

Then leaves you feeling worthless until all you want to say is, I’m done…

1

Just Breathe

SHE: ME-chanism. Have you ever tried to cope with life and felt like it was just too much? And no matter what you did, you couldn’t do it? Have you ever created mechanisms to be able to cope with things in general? Some people build emotional walls. That’s their way of coping with emotions. They build walls, and no matter what, they will not let anyone in because they do not want to get hurt. A creation of something to defend themselves against something that they are afraid to confront within themselves—that was Me. I created ME-chanisms to protect Me from confronting the She in Me.

Mechanism:

1. A system of parts working together in a machine.

2. A natural or established process by which something takes place or is brought about.

Defense mechanism:

A mental process initiated, typically unconsciously, to avoid conscious conflict or anxiety.

I was the machine. I created the parts that made up me to defend myself from my worst enemy, which was the mirror. When I looked in the mirror, I just wanted to run away. I felt like one day She would hurt Me. So, I had to protect myself. Hence the need for the ME-chanisms; this was unconsciously my life. At the time, I had no idea that this is what was going on in my mind. To me, I was initially just coping with life.

My defense mechanisms were: Displacement, Disassociation, Sublimation, and Repression, a.k.a. Pooky, Tasha, Tee, and Tamyra. I felt like I was alone and could not resolve the ongoing battles in my mind that provoked anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem. I didn’t know who I was. I knew who everyone said I should be, and I knew how I felt. I was gay (and I ain’t talking about happy). I liked girls.

Like, what was I supposed to do with that? I didn’t know why I felt that. To me, it felt real. To me, being with a guy didn’t feel real. It was like I made myself do it more and more to prove something to myself. To prove that the feelings I had weren’t real. I thought that if I were with a guy enough, then those feelings would just disappear. They didn’t. As a matter of fact, they increased. I started to feel disconnected. Now granted, I didn’t start openly acting on or coming clean with these feelings until my late teens, early 20s.

The Neuro-Psychoses of Defense. A concept first used by Sigmund Freud in his paper in 1894. The concept is a psychoanalytic hypothesis that forces in the mind oppose and battle each other. I knew this without knowing this. Facing my demons is what I called it. My ME-chanisms were people. I created people. This is how I mechanically inclined myself to cope with my past and the present moments that I was in. This way, I didn’t feel like I was alone in life.

I created a different person for each aspect of my life. Some people call them alter egos. Some call it bi-polar—maybe even psycho. Some would call it flat-out crazy. Cuckoo. Crae. Call it what you want. I called it dealing with my demons. There were times that I just didn’t feel like Me. So, what would you call it? Yeah, I thought so. I learned a crazy lesson from each one of them, though. Each of them made me into who I am today.

Ya see, Pooky, this chick was a different breed. She was already a part of me because this was my childhood nickname. She was off the rocker! Like—legit crazy at its finest. But in her defense, she had seen and been with me through so much. Because she was a childhood nickname, she was there with me from birth.

Because she had seen so much, she was angry, rude, and her mouth had no filter. She was full of rage and bitterness. She would curse you out at the drop of a dime. Would fight you and didn’t care who, what, where, when, or why. Boy, girl, and whether she had an army with her or not, she literally would blackout mentally and ask questions later. Yo, and she was a certified stalker. She had to be an FBI agent in another life. She could find out literally anything! She would know your whereabouts, time-abouts, and thought-abouts.

Sis was your worst nightmare. She was also the party girl in Me, the drinker, the weed head. Dance and party all night long and find someone to go home with. I remember this one time she and a good friend of hers camped out between these bushes, waiting for her significant other to pull up at this specific place she was staking out. Once, she realized she was right. She saw them pull up, and she went back home and went to bed. After they still did not come home that night (well, morning, it was like 3 am), she woke up, got dressed, and went and banged on these people’s door.

Like, sis, what in the world is wrong with you? She was banging like she was the cops. I remember that story specifically because she almost went and wrote a check that her tail couldn’t cash (as my grandmother would say). I should have slapped her. Oh wait, then I would have slapped myself. Nah, that wouldn’t have worked (lol). She just did stuff without thinking first. Her mindset was act now, ask questions later. The rage and anger would overtake her. And the rage and anger came from bitterness and unforgiveness that She suppressed for so long. They also turned into thoughts of murder—murdering others and herself.

Have you done that before, been a Pooky? How many times have you just snapped off first and asked questions later because all that matters at that moment are your feelings? You feel like I’ll deal with the consequences later. But all of that anger and rage is just a buildup from years of not forgiving, which then made you bitter. It was a buildup of emotions that you chose not to confront. The demons you were afraid to face. See, my Me-chanism was Pooky, which derived from the actual wall or defense mechanism of displacement.

Have you lashed out because of hidden issues that weren’t dealt with? Have you been mad at those that hurt you but took it out on everyone around you? Have you taken the punk way out, even lashing out at yourself? I can relate. When Pooky lashed out, it wasn’t just on other people. It was on Me. Many times, I was scared to be alone with Me—with myself. With Pooky. With these people in my head.

Do emotions sometimes go from zero to a hundred so quick you couldn’t even blink? Yup, I can relate. My emotions would be all over the place. But Pooky – There were many times that I thought this chick was going to take me out. Like, literally kill me. All because deep down, She was mad at people who had hurt her, and She didn’t know how to forgive. Real talk, She didn’t want to forgive. She wanted to be angry. All of this led to an unimaginable state of depression. Can you relate?

Are there things or situations that you want to be angry about? Are there people you want to hold onto that you have a grudge with? Or are there seriously people that you don’t know how to forgive? Let’s be real, are there people that you are only angry with because they are holding a grudge with you, and you’re the one that needs to apologize? Pooky relates to all of the above. I’m telling you that this chick took me through an emotional ringer day and night for a great portion of my life.

Tasha. Tasha was my best friend. I created this monster in kindergarten. And yes, I said monster. I used to talk to her about everything as a little girl. She knew all of my secrets. Shucks, she was a secret. I would talk to her for hours lying in bed. Or just sit in the chair beside the stove in the kitchen at my grandmother’s house and talk to her about everything until I would hear my grandmother yell, Poogy, who are you out there talking to? (Yes, she called me Poogy.)

Nobody! I would yell from the kitchen as I jumped up and ran back into the living room. A lot of kids have imaginary friends, right?

Not only did Tasha know all of my secrets, but she was my best-kept secret. I don’t know how much detail I want to give about Tasha. Yeah, I’ll just say that she was my best-kept secret, and I may need to keep it that way. This chick showed me things and had me experience life in a different way. Not good or bad, just different.

There were many nights that Tasha and I just fell asleep talking and laughing. My grandmother slept in the bed with me because I was always too afraid to sleep alone. But she always slept on her right side, and she never turned around. To this day, I didn’t know why that was. But she would always say, Poogy, what are you over there doing?

Nothing! I would say. And then Tasha and I would snicker in slight laughter under the covers.

She introduced me to a lot. And she stayed my best friend for a while. Would you believe that a kid in middle school had an imaginary friend? I knew better, right? I didn’t, though. All I knew was, she was there for me when I wanted to talk, cry, and even laugh. She was my outlet.

Through her, I was able to dissociate myself from the world. She was there when I thought about killing myself. Yup, She even talked me down from those thoughts a couple of times. In ninth grade, She kinda disappeared. But I think she became a part of me. There were certain moments I would hear or feel her coming out of me. She was edgy. She would do things that I would not even bring myself to think about doing. But she was such a free spirit that she did whatever she wanted to do and didn’t care what anyone else thought about her. I guess I outgrew the imaginary friend, but She stayed connected to me.

What about you? Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Do you know anyone that has had an imaginary friend? My son had one when he was younger. He gave his imaginary friend his same name. I remember being in a department store, this lady was walking by, and she overheard my son talking to his imaginary friend. She immediately had a big smile on her face, and she came over to him and me.

He was sitting in the front part of the cart when she came to me and said, Is he playing with his imaginary friend?

Yes, all of the time, I answered her.

Her smile grew larger as she proceeded to say, I am a teacher, and studies show that children that have imaginary friends are much more creative and smarter.

Really? I responded. I smiled extremely hard and said, Wow! That’s great to know. Thank you for sharing!

I actually wanted to say, Thank you. That kinda explains my life growing up. I should have asked her, Well, what does it mean when that imaginary friend disappears, and you feel that they are now a part of you? What do studies show about that? But I didn’t. Studies did bring some clarity, though.

Tee was my absolute favorite. So, before Tee became a Me-chanism, it was just a nickname that I introduced to people in my early 20s. Anyone that knows my mom knows that one of her biggest pet peeves is when someone does not pronounce my name correctly. I ran into this a lot. I would be called Tamara, Tomara, Temara. And all I would be thinking is It’s spelled exactly how it sounds.

Mama made it really easy for everyone. It had three syllables. Ta-My-Ra. But since everyone had such a hard time pronouncing it, I made it even easier for them. Just call Me Tee, I felt like I said to everyone I met for the first time.

Anyhow, who knew that I was going to branch her out into this crazy life? What started as a nickname became a whole mood. Sis was definitely a whole mood, which is why I loved her so much. Little did I know, she was always with me. She just hadn’t officially been named yet.

I tried to call on her to kick these others out, but Pooky and Tasha were some strong-minded chicks. Ugh! Tee did not care about any of them! She didn’t care about Pooky, Tasha, Tamyra, Dooky, Rasha, Loopy, Poopy, none of them in my head. It was literally like these people would be in my head, all scrunched up on the right side arguing about who was coming out next. Tee was just on the left side all by herself chillin’. Like, holla at me when y’all are done. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I’m about my business. If it wasn’t about taking care of her and hers, she had no interest at all. She always held a job and took care of herself and her son. This was by any means necessary. She was my independence.

Independent: Free from outside control; not depending on others control.

She was my freedom. She was focused. She held it down. Tee controlled Tee, not a person, place, or thing. And definitely not love. She had the concept of Control love and don’t let love control you down to a T. (Get it? Down to a Tee.) *This is where you, as the reader, laugh hysterically because the author is extremely corny.* In all seriousness, She had complete control of her life. She did what made her happy, which was a blessing and a curse. She was also selfish, and being so self-dependent made her prideful.

How about you? Do you have a Tee in there? Are you independent (silently snaps neck) that you just don’t need anyone for anything? Even when you do need someone, you are now too full of pride to break down and ask because, in your mind, you have convinced yourself that needing someone is a weakness. Now you are so self-absorbed that you think the world resolves and sets on you. But pride comes before every man’s fall.

Tamyra was Me. My voice of reason when these Me-chanisms tried to overtake my mind. But they were so strong. I fought so hard every day. I fought for my life and for my own sanity. Who knew that I could be so worn out every day just from fighting my thoughts? I was so mentally drained and emotionally washed up to the point where I completely lost myself. It was scary. I was raised right. I initially had a good head on my shoulders. Some might ask, Well, what happened?

My answer will always be, "Life happened to me, and I didn’t know how to cope at the time."

Night 1 - Depression

Dear God,

It’s me again. Listen, God, I mean this in the most respectful way possible. Why does life suck? I mean—like, my life. It really sucks. I put on this smile and act like life is great. But real talk God, life ain’t great. People look from the outside and think I have it all together. They think I have it all figured out. They have no clue what I’m going through or what I fight and struggle with inside from day-to-day. This smile, this smile is so fake. God! If people only knew that I go home and cry myself to sleep every night and that not a day goes by that, I don’t consider just ending it all for myself.

In my mind, that would make life easier for everyone. I mean, even you. Right, God? It would be one less person that you would have to deal with. I just feel so alone. How is that God? How am I always surrounded by people, but I still feel so alone? It feels like I am in this world all by myself except when I am with my son. He gives me hope like no other. Sometimes, I think that I would even make life easier on him if I weren’t here. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with his unstable-minded, crazy mama.

God, why am I here? It feels like I can’t do anything right. I’m always messing up. I’ll serve you one minute, and then I’m back in the world; the next, I feel emotionless in front of people. I have cried so much that I have mastered when to cry and when to hold it in. I call it emotion control. I just feel like no one understands me, God. I’m just in this nonstop battle with my thoughts. They try to shut me down from the world. Real talk God, I’ve poured out so much of myself that I’m just tired.

I’m always giving, giving, giving. I’m empty. Real talk, I don’t know if I’ll ever be the one that someone just thinks of. Or if I’ll ever be the one who gets love poured back into that I have poured out for so many years. I don’t know why I’m here, God. Ok, God, I have a little more fight in me. I think. I just don’t know how much more I can take. But I do know you said that you would not leave me. So, please don’t leave me, God. My head is about to explode! I could just SCREAM!

SCREAM

Captivated, then demacitated

Trapped in a world of demasse invasion

Depression is aggressively teaching a lesson to the aprothopy of my Majesty

Leaving my destiny in pure agony

And screaming for a release of my soul

AHHHHHHH!!!!

This propelling and acselling pain

Whew Weee!

I feel you, Job

So, God, I know you will return to me tenfold

The returning of my mind that the cankerworm hath stole

When Satan whispered in my ear,

Give me your soul and life. Aren’t you tired of all these tears, strife, and Lonely nights?

Suicide, it’s the suicide is the mission you preside

Satan, you don’t have the power to make me die

So, you get in my head and convince me to take my own life,

Yeah, and it almost worked that one night

You threatened my thoughts and produced an ought between my mind and My heart

When I took those pills, and I chased them with beer, I laid on

That chair, and I didn’t even care what happened next

As a matter of fact, I told God, I better not wake up!

Or when I contemplated with that knife in my hand about slitting my wrist And ending God’s plan

Or when I drove late night and examined just letting Satan have the wheel

And remove myself from this spiritual famine and closing the deal

But you are not the lawyer, nor the judge of this fatal attraction called Love

I feel like SCREAMING!!!

AHHHHHHH!!!!

Suicide, it’s the suicide is the mission you preside

Satan, you can’t kill me, so you try to provoke me to take my own life

I just needed something

Something was better than nothing

And definitely better than this pain I feel in my heart

I just want to feel numb

Numb to everything

It’s, it’s weird. I just wanted to feel nothing

No one understands this pain, this hurt of feeling unloved

Of feeling alone, and even when you’re not alone, you still feel so lonely

Trapped in your own skin and constantly battling yourself

Afraid of yourself

Inside, you’re screaming,

"No, No, don’t leave me alone with her

She’s gonna kill me!

But no one ever heard me

They left me

And she kept trying to kill me

She told me that nobody loved me

She told me that not even God and that even God had given up on me

And I would be better off in hell than living this screwed-up thing they all Called life, propelled

How they never heard my screams

I remember it was fall of 1996

We were about to leave for a basketball game,

And I, I had a rough time in school that day with someone that I thought I Loved

For some reason, their feelings changed, and they no longer felt the same

And they were now actually in love with someone else,

So, before the game, I reached up in that medicine cabinet at my grandmother’s house, and I grabbed a full bottle of Aspirin

Yes, this was premeditated

I knew what I wanted to happen

I already knew what SHE was planning to do

The entire ride to the school, I cried, hollered, and SCREAMED!

AHHHHHHH!!!!

But no one heard me

I yelled, HELP, SHE’S TRYING TO KILL ME! SAVE ME!

AHHHHHHH!!!!

But no one heard Me

Night 2 – Oppression

Ahhhh! Sitting in a room all alone, trying to figure out where my next breath was coming from. I know. I get it. Most would say that it’s coming from your lungs, upper respiratory system, and then out of your mouth and/or nose. For me, my next breath came from love. When I was in love, I felt like I could breathe. When I wasn’t, I felt like I was gasping for air with every step. When I felt like someone loved me back, that was my heaven. I was on cloud nine, but no one loves me right now.

I love them so much! Why won’t they answer my phone calls? Why won’t they let me breathe? Don’t they realize they are suffocating me? Ring, ring. Every time I hear the telephone on the opposite end, it sends chills through my body. And when I hear the sound of the voicemail pick up and constantly repeat itself, I choke.

A strong wind of anger overtakes me. My heart races, eyebrows raise, and all I hear is the pitter-patter of my foot beating the carpeted floor. My nerves are overwhelming me and taking over my mind. How in the world did I get here again? I asked myself repeatedly as I beat my head into my fists. Oh, no! I thought as tears began to flood the floor. My high is wearing off.

I said to myself, No! Then I’ll be able actually to feel this pain. No, there is no way I will be able to take feeling this pain. It literally feels like there is a knife in my heart, and it’s twisting every time I moved.

The knife was rejection and fear.)

Ok girl, c’mon on now, get yourself together. You have been through this plenty of times before. You should know how to handle rejection. You should know how to handle fear. C’mon, take control of yourself. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe in and breathe out. Wait, why does this room seem like it’s getting smaller and smaller? Ughhh! Ahhhh! The screams from the all too familiar aches and pains. There is now a burning in my chest that now shoots to my arms and into my stomach. I can’t breathe, I said, gasping for air. Ouch! Ahhh! Something keeps stabbing me! When I was younger, I remembered my grandmother would get down on her knees and talk to God when something was wrong. She did that even when nothing was wrong now that I think about it. I wonder if that will work for me too. I wonder if God will hear me again.

You know what? I know how to handle this. It didn’t work before, but I’ll make sure it works this time. I’ll just end it all tonight. No one will even miss me. No one cares anyway. I can take these pills, and life will be great. No more pain, hurt, harm, nothing. I won’t feel anything anymore. I’ll be free. Will you? a small voice asked.

Who said that? I said, sitting up in my chair.

But what if you go to Hell? the voice asked again.

Who said that? I yelled. I won’t go to Hell. I’ll be helping. I mean, I’ll be helping God. Doing Him a favor, you know. No one will even care. God doesn’t need someone so irrelevant like me here. So, if I help God, then I’ll be with God and not go to Hell, right?

I finally fell asleep through an ocean of tears before I had the chance to take any more pills. I woke up the next morning so angry because I did wake up. I just hoped that God would maybe take me in my sleep. I spent all day weeping and sleeping on and off in my small efficiency apartment room. I hadn’t eaten any real food, only snacks here and there, after having the munchies from being high from marijuana. Liquor and beer on an empty stomach weren’t a good look either. I was so nauseous. Finally, the next night came.

Night 3 - Tired

Ahhh! This hurts so badly. I can’t take it anymore. I’m so tired, Lord. I have had enough. Still no phone call from them. I mean, how? After what they did to me? And still will not answer my phone calls. Like, this is me, God. I was the one who was always there! Through everything! I have put up with so much crap from this girl. She has hurt me for the last time.

I continued to cry hysterically. I’m so tired, God. I continued to repeat. Somebody, please help me. Please! These were the cries that abruptly escaped from the depths of my throat after one last yell for help. I really hoped someone heard me this time. I cried out with a roar as if someone or something was attacking me, almost like the roar of a vicious lion that hadn’t eaten in three days. The cry was loud and obnoxious. They continued, Please, please, please help me! God, are you there? I asked as I sat on the floor.

The smell of old in the room made my nose run. The stains on the floor made me even sicker to my stomach. My legs, arms, and back still itched from the bedbug bites that were in the bed. God, please tell me that you hear me! I yelled out with bloodshot red eyes that poured tears like a river overflowing. God! I yelled as I threw pillows at the window and clothes at the walls in a dreadful, scary anger.

I fell to my knees at the bedside after four hours straight of pouring out tears, cries, and yells. Just mad at the world and everybody in it. I blamed everyone that I could, including God. I let out my last few tears and found the strength to pull my hands together in a prayer stand and give God one last call.

God, please help me! I’m so tired. I need you. Please help me! I just want to die. And ok, God, I don’t want to kill myself, but I can’t stay here, God. I can’t live anymore. I don’t want to. Please, God, just take me with you. I just want to come with you. I want to be with you. I’m tired of trying to take my own life, and it not working. You never allow it to happen anyway, and I hate the sickness after the fact. I’m not going through all of that to be sick and not succeed in the mission. And let’s be real, the fact is that if I do take my own life, I won’t be with you. I’ve come to that realization. So, can you just take me? Please, God? I just want to be happy and pain-free. No more crying, no more pain, and no one else will be able to hurt me. C’mon God. I just want to be with you.

After wiping my eyes and blowing my nose several times, I used my last piece of strength to climb onto the bug-infested bed. (All that was going on in my mind, that was the last thing I was worried about.) My eyes were heavy and puffy. It felt like someone had taken oranges, threw them, and had target practice with my eyes and face. I just laid there. It was pitch black. The tears had finally stopped. I was officially all cried out. I had nothing left to give, not another tear and not another word. There was nothing left to say. I laid limp on the bed. I closed my eyes and pushed out one final statement knowing that I was about to fall asleep. God, please take me, I said very softly. God…

2

The Dream

Hurry, Doctor! We’re losing her!

I heard a voice say as my eyes popped open, and I was standing in the middle of a labor/delivery room. I stretched, yawned, and said, Where am I? as I looked around the room, confused. The room was extremely cold. I immediately started shivering.

Again, I heard the voice get louder and say, Hurry, Doctor! We’re losing her!

I looked to the right and saw a dark-skinned woman lying on a hospital bed with tubes and machines all around her. There was a sheet separating half of her body from the other half. On the top half, you saw her chest and face. The other half were her feet and a round belly the size of a watermelon. I wiped my eyes with my hands. I needed to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. I rubbed my eyes so hard you would have thought that I rubbed them off.

Mom, I said. Excuse me, is that my mom? I asked the nurse standing beside her bedside. She completely ignored me. Excuse me, is that my mom? I yelled at the nurse. Again, she ignored me. How can she not hear me? I was standing right beside her. No one in here even turned around when I yelled. No one is even acknowledging my presence. I grabbed the other nurse’s arm and yelled, Excuse Me! Still no response.

The next thing I know, out of nowhere, doctors and nurses were running