Originally written as a post on the 19th of September, 2014 at exactly 11:49pm, the night that I chose to rebirth my passion; I have decided to page it to serve as a constant reminder to myself and readers that care, that it doesn’t matter that we fall, or fail; or when, how and why; what really, truly and honestly matters is that we find the courage to stand back and up, and start again.
Name: DaMore Alli
Former blog: http://www.dr2103.wordpress.com
From the 13th of March, 2012 to August 2014.
Changed to: http://www.awecrazy.wordpress.com
From August 2014, to August 2014.
Current blog: http://www.minisculediary.wordpress.com
Status: Here to stay.
Now, let’s hear the story.
It happened in one second. A tinny fleeting tick of the clock. I was mad, angry, confused, and unsure. But I was sure too, of some things. I needed to get rid of my feelings. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Well, at least not those things and not that way.
The day had started out great that day. I forget what day of the week it was. I went to work, and had a wonderful session with my colleagues and students. I returned home, relaxed and very me but nothing warned me of the call I was to receive later that day that would shatter my self esteem to nothingness.
So it came through. The call. And I talked with this person, an acquaintance, for a good number of minutes. We laughed. And teased. Talked about the country, and states within. Weird choice of topic, but I was pretty much enjoying my night’s company before the words spilled. Innocently. Playfully. It was about my work. The one I even thought best of the month. It hit me on the wrong nerve, I guess. I don’t know why it meant so much, but it did. So that night before going on to sleep, I picked my phone, sought my browser, found my blog, and deleted it. I cried, and it rained that night. And with the heavy fall and thunder claps came a resounding assurance. I was not alone. Even the heavens felt my heart break that night.
Now, don’t think I wasn’t thinking. Because I was. And I must say I thought this was over, but it sure seems not. To and for those people that made me promise to start out a new blog, here I am again, tonight, sitting on the same bare floor I sat when I broke my own heart the other time. I am staring right at the pieces, wondering what to make of them. But I guess it doesn’t matter yet. All that matters now, tonight, is that I gathered all ’em pieces and ‘m willing to make peace with my muse again.
And as I drop my pen and pad, I officially pronounce this the first blog post on the return of the short black girl. Unedited, unrevised, untidy, but I am not sorry about it.
With love, and other unspoken emotions, I propose we start on a new note.
Hi, I am Me, and it’s nice to meet you too.
Me, the Short Black Girl.