Struggle not mandatory

 I went to church I think all 4 Sundays in July.

The sermon series were Teachings in Daniel.

The guy I was trying to make my boyfriend was named Daniel.

I wanted it so badly to be a sign.

I kept hearing that name everywhere.

Then when I asked said boy about what relationship he admires, the name of the woman in the story was the same name as my aunt. I don't know anyone else with that name. 

I wanted it so badly to be a sign.

But I don't believe in signs or karma.

I remember when I got into Duke..or maybe when I applied to Duke. I was going to a UMC church at that time. Actually, I take that back. I saw some literature for Duke at a UMC church I attended in 9th grade, that's probably where I got the name.

I got in eventually. Nothing good came out of that Duke experience, not one thing.

I'm tired of listening to Bible stories of 80 years of struggle and then the promised land. What kind of life is that! 

I don't want it. I don't want one bar of it. Not one. 

This isn't the life I want. I would say it's not the life I agreed to but I didn't ask to be born. It's been 20 to 30 years and there are no answers as to why I'm here. I have no faith that the struggle is worth it because when I look to my family and friends and especially with family and friends dying, it wasn't worth it.

Not to me. 

Everything I prayed really hard for and gotten has been a bit of a poop sandwich. Getting into Duke - poop sandwich. Getting into Stanford - poop sandwich. Teaching- I didn't pray hard for that - poop sandwich. Getting into pharmacy school - poop sandwich. 

I think that was the last thing I prayed really hard for. Oh, my rotations my last year - but that was to get out of the poop sandwich. That actually did end up being okay.

So one prayer out of 38 years of prayer was not a poop sandwich?

I know I have a lot of things to be grateful for but the thing with gratitude logs is those things are fleeting. And it just makes me think of other things I want that I don't have and won't get. Mostly, it reminds me of the past.

A group of aunts are essentially moving into 1 house to be with their mom in her last years. A Golden Girls kind of situation. It seems cute, but for me all I see are a group of black women without partners because we live in a society where they are not the first choice.

I just see another Death House. 

Not to bury the lede, but about 1 sentence into this post, I applied for my handgun permit.

You have to know when to stop singing. When to say the race is done.

I'm tired of crying.

I don't even know how to blow all my money.

I know I won't because up until the moment I pull the trigger, I'll still keep hoping for hope. 

My biggest regret is that all this money I worked so hard to save is going to be left to my brother - who doesn't deserve it. But I don't have anyone else.

I guess it figures, even in death my life won't make sense.