Raheem, my handsome Nubian King. Boy who I thought I loved. Boy who I thought loved me, foolish. Father to my child. Taker of my unpossessed innocence. Robber of my integrity. Motivator of my pain and distraught.
He's probably busy. Maybe. I called several times I never got an answer. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I continuously play myself and make excuses for his actions that to a person in their right mind wouldn't be excusable.
I left a message. "Hello Raheem, this Qadirah calling from the hospital, the baby's here. Call me back when you get a chance." That's wasn't the first message, not close to the last. Called some more. Nurses called. No answer. Same old Raheem.
He'll never change. I feel that i'll never change when it comes to him. I chased him after he beat me for "getting myself pregnant" as he said. I stood by him after he asked me was it his. I stood by him when he said I needed to get rid of it. I would be still standing by his side if he didn't walk out on me the day after.
A foundation is the key to happiness and success. No wonder i'm not successful, no wonder i'm miserable. Is it weird that I knew what would happen once I told Raheem? Is it weird that it didn't scare me? I'm used to being left when faced with obstacles. When the get going gets tough I expect everyone who I "love" to leave.
I got a call back from Raheem. He's yelling into the phone "What you calling me for, I told you that's not my baby." Sad ass Raheem. Sad ass me. Poor Ayana. She deserves better.
Raheem wasn't always like this with me. I cant think about our friendship before it became a relationship because it hurts so much that he's changed. My regrets take a toll on me. I regret ruining the friendship we had due to my promiscuity. Sometimes I don't fault Raheem because I feel it's all my fault.
