Slow Down, Fast Girl

Hidden Identity

Turns out Jabari wasn't that niggah like I thought he was. The more we dated the more I found out he just wasn't right for me. See I'm a Pisces. I'm soft hearted, naïve and I always speak my mind. I always want to think the best of people. In reality, some people just have too many demons. Jabari was one of them. See I figured I could fix him. Just like every other woman. Give him a little love here. A little love there and we could help each other through this thing called life. Boy was I wrong. Jabari was a ho. Plain and fucking simple. He was everybody niggah. He would compliment bitches right to my face and not think twice about it. He was abusive. I believe he hated anything that had to do with love. When I say abusive, I mean verbally and physically. He never spoke well about me. Never complimented me. Hell we barely kissed. Anytime I would do or say something he didn't like the muthafucka would pinch me. Yes, you heard right. He would pinch the shit out of me. As if I was his child. Now that may have given you a laugh but in all seriousness that was a form of abuse. He use to grab underneath my arm or anywhere on my arm and pinch me so hard until my eyes watered. I had to beg him to stop. I had purple bruises all over the back of my arms. I was that girl who wore long sleeves in August. The abuse got so bad with him. I couldn't be with him any longer. It got to a point as to where I walked on eggshells around him. I didn't speak out of turn. When he talked. I listened. I wore my hair the way he wanted me too. When he was done playing with me. I went and sat back on my shelf. God forbid if he ever caught me in another niggahs face. I walked with my head down. If he stopped to speak to one of his teammates. I couldn't look at them. I had to turn my head the other way. Jabari had me T-R-A-I-N-E-D!!!I tolerated it because he didn't have a mother. His mother died when he was a child. I pitied him for it. He didn't grow up with a mothers love and he didn't know what real love was. All I had to do was show him how much I loved him and everything would get better. Considering neither of us had our mothers in our life we bonded over that missing link. At times he was the sweetest guy ever. He would hold me and kiss me. Like I was the only girl under the sun. He had a special type of love. I craved it. When he was mad. I was afraid of him. We eventually broke up four months after we started dating. I just couldn't take the abuse anymore. I was so depressed and so sad after we broke up. I didn't eat anything for three days. I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried. I begged him to come back to me. As soon as I broke up with him he had moved on. I was truly heartbroken. Over a niggah that had beaten me down in every way possible. All the crying I was doing over him made me nauseous. I felt the urge to puke. I was so weak I couldn't even walk to the bathroom. I had to slide down onto the floor and use my arms to pull my body weight. All the way to the bathroom. I puked up cookies and cream ice cream. That's all my depressed ass was in the mood for. I flushed down my insides and got up off the floor to wash my hands. I didn't even want to look at myself in the mirror. Somehow I found the strength to. My eyes were puffy and red. My nose was as red as Rudolph's. My face was all swollen and my hair was a mess. My spirit was broken and I didn't know how to get up from this. As I stared back at my reflection in the mirror something looked different in my eyes. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but it made me smile. A smile was all I needed to remind myself that I was still beautiful. I was still human. Even though I felt like a zombie. That twinkle in my eye gave me the strength I needed to pick myself up. I made a vow that day to never lose my strength over a niggah again.