Its interesting how our feelings go straight into reconnaissance mode when entering the New Year. Our prospects soar higher than how we ever imagined the year previous. The ground that I walk used to fill me with content, but with the turn of a number, from eight to nine, flipped a terrible switch inside. I should replace that word because it's not so terrible. Just normal. And normalcy is not something I like to become familiar with. Regretting is not a forte, but I've allowed myself to slump into the low grind of talking shit and not taking blame for the stain I've put on not only my sleeve, but the people around me. There are countless things that could use readjustments.
Its easy to get carried away with I, me, and myself. They can be your best friends and yet contribute to your reclusive reputation because you can't help but put yourself in the limelight all the time. It wouldn't hurt to give the mic to somebody who actually needs it. Losing it all and regaining it back.
On a lighter note, R&B has never felt so guh-hoood.
I need a good dance this week. Another good book too.
And dream when you're feeling blue.
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