You can tell me
You love me
In the sunrise
And by midday
I will think
I’m completely
Your love is enough
But I feel like
I’m not enough for your love.

I will wake you up
At 2 am
When I’m stone-cold-sober
To say sorry
For everything.
You won’t know what I’m talking about.
Neither will I.
Say it’s okay.

Some days
I will tell you
I need you to hold me.
Tell me
I am strong on my own
But you’ll be there
Just the same.

I am and will be
Jealous of
Everyone and everything
That goes on
When you’re not with me.
Remind me
That you care but
Never let me make you
Feel guilty for not letting
Your world revolve
Around me.

When I call you crying
One too many times
I don’t need advice,
Just to know
That my tears are not
Falling unheard.

I will accuse you
Of being sick of me,
Of being tired of me
A lot.
And you will spend
These conversations
Feeling like a broken record.
Don’t get bored of me.
I’m just scared
That you’ll see me
The way I see myself.

I will never be angry
But I’ll get passive-aggressive.
If I tell you
It doesn’t matter
Tell me
It matters
To you.

I’m not as broken
As I often like to think I am.
Don’t try to fix me.
I still need to learn.

I’m afraid of being rejected
But don’t stay
If you don’t want to.
I’d rather be alone
Than with someone
There out of pity.

Be patient
And let me
Grow into your arms.

—  M.S. An open letter to anyone who loves me
Today, the 70th day of this nightmare, some may wonder why we have yet to stop – to stop chanting, stop marching, stop occupying .
But we have not yet found peace because we do not yet know justice. Therefore we, together with our allies, will continue to occupy the streets and the American consciousness until the book is closed.
—  An American Horror Story: An Open Letter from Ferguson Protesters and Allies (Oct. 17)

In Ferguson, a wound bleeds. For 108 days, we have been in a state of prolonged and protracted grief. In that time, we have found community with one another, bonding together as family around the simple notion that our love for our community compels us to fight for our community. We have had no choice but to cling together in hope, faith, love, and indomitable determination to capture that ever-escaping reality of justice.

After 108 days, that bleeding wound has been reopened, salt poured in, insult added to the deepest of injury. On August 9th, we found ourselves pushed into unknown territory, learning day by day, minute by minute, to lead and support a movement bigger than ourselves, the most important of our lifetime. We were indeed unprepared to begin with, and even in our maturation through these 108 days, we find ourselves reinjured, continually heartbroken, and robbed of even the remote possibility of judicial resolution. A life has been violently taken before it could barely begin. In this moment, we know, beyond any doubt, that no one will be held accountable within the confines of a system to which we were taught to pledge allegiance. The very hands with which we pledged that allegiance were not enough to save Mike in surrender.

Once again, in our community, in our country, that pledge has returned to us void.

For 108 days, we have continuously been admonished that we should “let the system work,” and wait to see what the results are.

The results are in.

And we still don’t have justice. This fight for the dignity of our people, for the importance of our lives, for the protection of our children, is one that did not begin Michael’s murder and will not end with this announcement. The ‘system’ you have told us to rely on has kept us on the margins of society. This system has housed us in her worst homes, educated our children in her worst schools, locked up our men at disproportionate rates and shamed our women for receiving the support they need to be our mothers. This system you have admonished us to believe in has consistently, unfailingly, and unabashedly let us down and kicked us out, time and time again.

This same system in which you’ve told us to trust —this same system meant to serve and protect citizens— has once again killed two more of our unarmed brothers: Walking up a staircase and shot down in cold blood, we fight for Akai Gurley; Playing with a toy after police had been warned that he held a bb gun and not a real gun at only twelve years old, we fight for Tamir Rice.

So you will likely ask yourself, now that the announcement has been made, why we will still take to the streets? Why we will still raise our voices to protect our community? Why will still cry tears of heartbreak and sing songs of determination?

We will continue to struggle because without struggle, there is no progress.

We will continue to disrupt life, because without disruption we fear for our lives.

We will continue because Assata reminds us daily that “it is our duty to fight for freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love and support one another. We have nothing to lose but our chains.”

Those chains have bound us-all of us- up for too long. And do not be mistaken- if one of us is bound, we all are. We are, altogether, bound up in a system that continues to treat some men better than others. A system that preserves some and disregards others. A system that protects the rights of some and does not guard the rights of all.

And until this system is dismantled, until the status quo that deems us less valuable than others is no longer acceptable or profitable, we will struggle. We will fight. We will protest.

Grief, even in its most righteous state, cannot last forever. No community can sustain itself this way.

So we still continue to stand for progress, and stand alongside anyone who will make a personal investment in ending our grief and will take a personal stake in achieving justice.

We march on with purpose. The work continues. This is not a moment but a movement. The movement lives.

An Open Letter to Anyone Who Loves a Drug Addict

I know you didn’t know what you were getting into when you found out I was a drug addict. It hit me just as hard as you, the day they made me say my name attached to it. If you ask why I do it, I could give you a list of excuses that make using acceptable. You are not the main reason I choose to use. Sometimes you are a factor, and sometime it’s something else. Everything and anything is a trigger, as long as I can find a way to justify my using. My addiction did not start with you, so don’t blame yourself.  I was like this long before, and I’ll be this way long after you decide you can’t take it anymore. There’s just this empty, vacancy inside of me that’s eating me alive. I know what I’m putting inside my body isn’t helping, but my dopamine levels tell me otherwise. I’m trying to reconstruct myself back into the girl I was before whatever died and rotted inside of me; before The Monster came along. I know you want to see her instead of this. It kills me inside that you watch me closely as I leave the room, and when I reenter, you assess me to see if I’ve only snuck off to silence my demons. They don’t just go away when I have company; they sit there gnawing at my feet until I finally give in. Believe me, when I’ve had enough I will put it down and walk away, but right now is not the right time. You’re here at the worst possible time; you didn’t know how bad it was. I should’ve warned you. I keep telling myself to cut you off because it’s better that way. Maybe, you could just walk away and forget you saw me in this state. You’ve overcome obstacles and deserve to be surrounded by people who help push you forward. You don’t deserve to watch me waste away. We’ve both been through hell and back too many times and I refuse to drag you into mine. I can’t promise I’ll stop using any time soon, I can’t promise anything. I will say this: one day, I will put this down and I will find a way to revive myself. You are still a part of my life even though The Monster has taken over the majority of it. You know how easy it is for me to get stuck in a repetition, but you have to remember that I will get sick and tired of sitting in this hole, day in and day out. I promise that you will see the person you met years ago again. You won’t have to look at these tired eyes, or watch me fidget incessantly. One day, just not now. If you leave, just know I understand and I don’t blame you. Yes, I will be devastated and yes, I will use it as yet another excuse to use but you have a right to be just as selfish as I’m being. You deserve your happiness and peace of mind. I have never wanted to scream out apologies as much as I have in the last few years. Most of all, I’m sorry I can’t be there for you like you need me to. I’m sorry for being a shitty human being in general. I will turn everything around. Just not right now. At the end of the day, this is my decision. I choose my drugs and until I can healthily cope with everything that’s led me up to this point, I will choose the drugs. This doesn’t mean I don’t love you with every fiber of my being. I can promise you are still the first and last thing on my mind tonight. I don’t know if you’ll ever see this but if you happen to stumble across it, give it a chance. This is the most truthful I’ve been in a very long time. I love you. I love you. I love you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to be drug into this with me.

Love yourbrother/sister/daughter/son/mother/father/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/best friend/cousin/uncle/aunt
but better known as the drug addict

—  in case you  had forgotten that I cared.