My Plan Not My Purpose (part 4)…2 min. read

Just as I was about to settle into my new freedom another thorn stabbed me deeply. I awoke abruptly from my spell.

His actions affected me with the piercing pain of thorns from a “rose” bush. However, I did not see a beautiful rose flower in my presence. My mind drifted into hollowness. I began to hallucinate of beautiful roses that symbolized beauty and love. My nostrils inhaled pleasant scents that made me feel at peace. A spectrum of glowing colors burst in my optical senses. I was overwhelmed with such ecstasy and serenity. I took a deep breath.  I was feeling overjoyed that I was finally in my purpose. I could feel my body becoming lighter. My muscles relaxing. There was a crispness and clarity to my thinking.  God, I haven’t felt this feeling in a long time. If I had ever felt it at all.

Just as I was about to settle into my new freedom another thorn stabbed me deeply.

I awoke abruptly from my spell.

The room was filled with people. I had forgotten where I was. The thorns of lust were jabbing deep. Their eyes and body movements showed their attraction to each other. Her desire to be the attention of the false illusions that were inhabiting this space revealed itself each time she tried to look through me to him. She stood with a sensualness that I did not have the confidence to hold. She giggled like a mindless child playing with her favorite cousin at a sleepover. The smell of roses that occupied my nostrils during my hallucination was actually instigating from this girl that now challenged the entire room. Challenged the relationship that I ignorantly misunderstood was more important than my own sanity.

But I discerned my place in this space. I never was supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be in his company. I wasn’t supposed to be in such a challenge because it was not part of my purpose. I wasn’t supposed to be holding this drink. Or in this room where these thorns of disrespect, disregard, and dishonesty were making me bleed from my soul.

I was disheartened. My plan, not my purpose had me bleeding. With each drop of blood, I felt myself losing control and my mind drifting back to that hollowness but this time my nostrils smelled the aroma of a stench. The disgusting odor of dreams dying because none of us would admit the plan that we wrote for ourselves was unbecoming of our purpose. The weeds disguising themselves as beautiful roses were suffocating me.

My plan, not my purpose was leading me to nowhere.

To be continued…

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 3)

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 2)

My Plan Not My Purpose

©2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 3)…2 min. read

As I walked each day to clear my head and shed the tears of regret, I begin to devise a way to say “I messed up. I am sorry. I am lost to my next step.”

Part 3

The streets are lit, busy and filled with litter. Not just the litter of empty bottles of Cisco, Alizé, MD 20/20, Malibu, Jack Daniels, Thunderbird, Colt 45, Old English, old cigarette butts, and fast food boxes from all the restaurants the lined the streets of this impoverished neighborhood… but deeply littered with lost souls with no direction. Souls like mine that were embarrassed and angry that their plan, not their purpose was taken them to nowhere. But unlike me, most did not know the difference between their plan and their purpose. They did not know the magnitude of their misdirection. 

Their days filled with drugs and alcohol showed on the young women with vanishing clothing, loose talk, and behaviors that mimicked the overgrown and wildly growing weeds that lined the streets. Pretending they did not need or want a man with purpose, drive, and ambition.

The boys trying to portray themselves as men but only successful at passing themselves a blunt. A blunt of idiocy that gave them a false illusion of control, dominance, power, confidence, achievement and success. Only to sit the next day in front of the little television that sits propped on the chair serving as entertainment that in a short period of time proved to be their distraction out of poverty.

Sadly, I knew it all to be a lie. And it haunted me with each waking day, with each step in the wrong direction, with each tear I shed. Each time I compromised my purpose to pretend that my plan was working just as I had planned in my undeveloped mind with lack of experience. How do I escape the position I placed myself? How do I say “My plan was full of childish decisions of false illusions of grandeur” that was supposed to be better than the couple of years of education I had completed at one of the best colleges in Georgia?

As I walked each day to clear my head and shed the tears of regret, I begin to devise a way to say “I messed up. I am sorry. I am lost to my next step” because my next step could lead me into drug addiction, prostitution, or even death. But this too proved to be as hard as the souls that walked with me. As hard as the souls that littered the streets of this impoverished neighborhood that was lined with empty bottles of false illusions and overgrown weeds disguising themselves as people.

My plan.

Not my purpose.

Was still taken me to nowhere. To be continued.

©2017 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.

 

My Plan Not My Purpose (part 2)

My Plan Not My Purpose

 

My Plan Not My Purpose

The apartment is gravely positioned down a stretch of road littered with trash on both sides. On any given night it would not be safe to walk alone. Weeds overgrown with a wilderness that mimics the very people that lived there. The apartment buildings exhibit an exhausted appearance of a woman once pretty but now worn and ugly from the men that have run through and in her.

The stairwell that leads to an upstairs apartment is dark, damp, and dingy.

My plan not my purpose led me up the stairs to one of the darkest seasons of my life. At no specific time, the smell of burnt plastic would fill the air. I soon learned this was the smell of crack cocaine.

My plan to be independent led me to sleep on an old mattress laid on the scuffed wooden floor of an apartment void of life. No furniture. No family portraits. No groceries to fix and sit around the table. Some days no water. Other days no electricity.

All by choice not by force.

My plan.

Not my purpose.

Was taken me to nowhere.

To be continued…

© 2016 All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.