Uh-oh.

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Living room at the new place. I’m not 100% sure, but I think we agreed to decorate it together. Or I said he could help hang up stuff. Same thing, right? I’m kidding. Kind of.

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My sunroom/dining room. His too. But mostly mine.

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My unfinished kitchen. That, is mine fasho. Swangalangalang.

We move in next week. I’m so ready to mop floors and play with all the new appliances, I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. The last 3 months have been rough, but it’s coming together. I win. And I don’t have to instagram filter out the ugliness or shout it to the world. I love a good man, non-disposable friends, my family and myself. Singing in the shower and a kinky martini. Billie Holiday and Boardwalk Empire.  Section 80 and poundcake. I made a dark meat chicken spaghetti from scratch last night. Mother. Fucker.

Let’s do the math, I dunno.

6’2, 200lbs. 

2 shades darker. 

3 years older or younger. *Looks guilty*

Subtract football & basketball.

Add Martial Arts, and boxing. 

Add Gucci Mane. I dunno, just do it. 

Subtract Kim Kardashian, Alicia Keys, Gabrielle Union and Rihanna. 

Add carrying me around the house cause I said so. 

Subtract “Thug”.

Subtract famous athlete.

Subtract poet.

Subtract sociopath.

Subtract Rapper.

Subtract baby momma drama.

Add Anna’s approval and you can pretty much stop doing the math and go watch cartoons.