I feel it everyday. Soon as I awaken. As I struggle to sleep. It is a constant. It’s always there. It strengthens when I’m depressed but doesn’t weaken in happiness. I can cause others to feel it but can never make them understand the version I feel. It can be physical or mental, minor or debilitating. Yet no matter it’s strength or form it’s never far away. Have you figured it out yet? Not really a riddle. I’m sure you have had it. It visits us all. Pain.

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Disabled Girl’s Prayer 

By: Honey Wheels

i use to wake up from a deep slumber envisioning it was all a dream…

being trapped in an imperfect body that only allowed partaking in certain activities.

having to depend on an object on wheels for the simplest mobility.

enduring continual trips to the hospital for ER visits, doctor appointments, and surgeries.

experiencing crude encounters with people who had no knowledge or concept of respect and disability.

Why would GOD allow a being created in his own image be born in such deficiency??

Doubt succumbed me.

Fear enveloped me.

But love from earthly and heavenly “family” flowed through me and empowered my simple disabled girl prayer:

“Mother/Father God. I know before I was the pride and joy of my Mommy you already planned exactly how my life on earth should be lead and I accept the challenge because not everyone can be disabled, not everyone could understand this blessing and appreciate the beauty it brings. Allow me the strength to get up every morning and endure the daily struggles of accessibility to this world. Present positive individuals in my path that will believe in my abilities when my faith in myself becomes invisible. Create opportunities for me to inspire and encourage people in various situations that you MUST be bigger than your situation in order to progress. Ensure everything I obtain is through my hardwork and dedication and not by default or because of my disability. Provide me with patience as I go after the things I desire especially when it’s told I should not desire them. Reassure me that you will never give me more than I can handle and any obstacles I face are meant to build me up and not break me down. In Jesus name, Amen.”

However…….

Doubt and fear

still occasionally whispers in my ear,

but…………..

with faith in my creator,

my purpose,

and my abilities

I’m more equipped to press my way through 

and come out winning everytime

with my disabled girl prayer 

as my protection and motivation. 

Picture 

Written by: Tiffany Hall

We aren’t close.  Hell, we’re barely around each other. We don’t talk to each other more than saying hi. I doubt you even notice me. But I want to take a picture with you

I’ve known you since I was a pre-teen, twelve to be exact. I saw fireworks when you passed by me the first time. We were alot closer back then. I was childish. Extra shy. But you were my first crush and I knew nothing about feelings. But before we parted ways I had taken a picture with you.

That picture was lost in a flood but not forgotten. I feel kind of silly remembering it so well. The place we took has changed. We’ve changed but that picture is lodged in my memories. But we’re adults now. Time and life has made us new people. The children we were no longer exist but, around you she shows up again. Giggly and free spirited. Bright eyes and full of zest. The me I lost to reality and adulthood. She shows up in my heart and all she wants is to take a picture with you. To see you smile. 

We aren’t close. I doubt you even notice me… But, I’d like to take a picture with you.

Reflection 

Written By: Tiffany Hall

I knew you were trouble but, took the risk anyway. Our first phone conversation? I cursed you out and you called me back admiring my fire and my voice. You insisted on being my man.

I knew you were crazy, but decided to get to know you anyway. You made up a twin brother just to talk to me. Your quirky charm won me over and i agreed to meet you.

The day we met I should have walked away but, I stayed. We sat in the park and you kissed me. That kiss led us upstairs to the roof and I broke my rules for you. You weren’t my first, but you were the first that really matter.

You broke my heart. 3 months of constant affection and dates and you just left. No reason, no justification, no closure. You. Just. Left. Didn’t hear from you. Didnt see you. You just left.

Six years later, Random Myspace message. Honestly had no idea who you even were. Once reminded i agreed to let you come over and explain why you left. You had a baby by then and one on the way. I had just ended a bad relationship. Was suicidal. You were supposed to be my only goodbye. The sexual tension in the air was suffocating. You lifted me onto the bed and for the next 3 months we constantly made love every way imaginable. 

I fell in love all over again but so did you. We were inseparable. We weren’t “dating” but we were together.  Everyone thought it. We clearly were in love. The feeling was so obvious people thought we were married. I spent two whole years devoted to you before you said we should get married. I agreed. After all, everytime we separated into different relationships we ended up back together. Marriage was the logical choice….right?

Marriage, the beginning of the end. Its funny how the kiss on our wedding day was the last kiss between us that meant anything. Having a title so prominent as ‘Husband’ was too much for you. You changed so quickly. Became so distant and mean.  I didnt think we’d last the year but things turned and got better. We searched for apartments, spoke of expanding our family, vacationing in Italy. I was truly happy and you said you were too.

Your demons were stronger than my love. You lied. You hadn’t changed. You were a dog undercover. You never deactivated your dating site accounts. You were constantly flirting at work. Trying to hook up with girls on facebook. Lying about our relationship. I called you out on it. You tried to change. Made an effort. Things got better. Then SHE showed up and Jesus let go of the wheel.

Til divorce do us part. You chose your ex over your wife. The same ex who put you down for YEARS and only got with you because she’s mesmerized by your dick. You broke your vows for sex. Shouldn’t you be dead? Isnt marriage til death? Funny thing is, I doubt you filed for divorce. This began Nov. 16th 2016 and today July 25th 2017 I still haven’t been served. Some of the last words you spoke to me were “don’t be in such a hurry to divorce me”. Not sure what that meant.

July 25th 2017. 5 years later. It still hurts. I’m not destroyed. As a queen I’d never cry over a Jester. It hurts because i wasted my love on someone so unworthy. I defended you against so many verbal assaults. Held you while you cried over your dead fianceé and children, I held your hand at your mother’s funeral and explained to your sons why they could never see their grandma ever again. So much of myself i gave for you. Gave to you. Time. Emotion. Life. You just abandoned me for second hand pussy. I hope she’s enjoying spending time with you on OUR anniversary. 

I don’t hate you.  A part of me will always love you. However, once Dirty Diana the secondhand ho has had her fill don’t think you can come back. I refuse to go backwards. I will not downgrade.

Happy Anniversary you dildo. (I’d call you a dick but you’re not real emough for that)

Aside

RECONSTRUCTION

As per her assignment, Stephanie set out to reconstruct herself. Before the arduous task could begin, pre-contruction introspection had to take place.

Stephanie asked taskmster Will what the rules for this reconstruction would be.  Will informed her that there were no rules. Will had only one request…do the project alone. Other than that, total freedom. A blessing to most, a burden to Stephanie. She knew she functioned best with boundaries, rules and deadlines…so started the introspection.

Stephanie tried to go about this assignment in an organized way. She wanted everything to be perfect at the ‘Big Reveal’. Thats when all of the partipants would showcase their new selves to family and friends at an ICS gala.

She requested privacy and seclusion from her family which only seemed to make them need and want her more. Somehow she seemed to steal away the time she needed. She contemplated everything she could think of and see. She mafe catergories: PHYSICAL, MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL. She stood before a mirror, wheelchair hovering behind, and laughed. She remembered her 17yr old self. Skin cancer had staled the smooth dark chocolate she called skin. The same beautiful skin that had classmates calling her creature from the black lagoon. The skin she didnt really want. So much so that at eleven, having had ENOUGH she stole some of her great-great aunts blessed oil, stood before the mirror, believing more in the power of miracles than in the whipping her stern aunt would give had she been caught, Stephanie rubbed a palm full of that blessed oil about her face, hair and body. She prayed, IN JESUS NAME,  to be light skinned, and skinny with good, long hair and uncrossed eyes.  Stephanie opened her eyes slowly. To her astonishment and bewilderment Stephanie could not understand the image before her. Could this be real? In the mirror before her stood a fat, black shiny girl with wild hair and crossed eyes. She really, truly meant it when she said, in Jesus’ name. The thought of it tickled her.

She stood there trying to stand erect. Hips forward, shoulders back. Again, the image before her provoked chuckles. Whatever happened to those full round breast and those powerful hips. Perhaps feeding five babies and chasing after them had both deflated and depleted her once voluptuous body. Okay, okay…some call it fat. Semantics…semantics, Its my story, we’re going with voluptuous.

Now she had the option of reconstruction. Physical, mental, spiritual and mental reconstruction. Stephanie remained secluded until the night of the gala. The crowd marveled at the reconstructed participants. Four wheels were traded for high heels. Bodies where tight. Drab had become fab. Then, ot was Stephanie’s turn. Like the other participants , her theme music came first. Stephanie took her place behind the curtain and it lifted. Tha audience looked confused as I AM WHAT I AM played overhead. Stephanie roled out to whispers and slow applause. Some whispered…

‘what did she change?’

‘is she saying she gay?’ (for those who know the song and the movie)

Stephanie stood before the crowd and read an essay she had written,
Perfect Imperfect Me

Always Her…

Written By Queen T

Why do we tend to blame her? Now, I’m not saying guys don’t do the same thing but I’m speaking from what I’ve seen and experienced.  Picture this if you Will, Evan and Tia (random couple) have been together for 3 years. They seem happy. Tia walks in on Evan having sex with Donna in their house. What is Tia most likely to do?

A. Join them (Hey some women are kinky like that)

B. Walk out crying while Evan tries to convince her it isn’t what it looks like.

Or 

C. Start cursing and trying to kill Donna while calling her all sorts of bitches and hoes?

Did you pick C? In most scenarios you would be right and that is sad. We tend to hate her but why? She’s not the one cheating on us, breaking that invisible contract relationships form. Yet we almost automatically blame “her”. The worst part is that no matter how many “hers” there are we blame them. Why dont we fix the obvious problem? Him. Hes the one cheating not her. Yes we get mad or feel hurt but we forgive him and fall into the same trap again. Is it because we don’t want to start over with someone new? We don’t want to be alone? We have precious little self esteem? Or….we “love” him? I learned in my last relationship that “she” wasn’t the problem…. I was. I let myself believe he was a good man because he always came back but, good men don’t step out on you  in the first place. 

What do you think? Why are women so quick to blame the other woman? 

Snap Shot

Written BY: Lynda Norman

I SNAP A SHOT AS I WATCH HIM SLEEPING IN PEACEFUL BLISS, RIGHT AFTER HE’S HAD A TASTE OF THIS. LIKE A BOXER I JUST KNOCKED HIM DOWN, TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, I JUST WIN THAT ROUND. I JUST LOVE TO SEE HIM SLEEP AFTER I GIVE HIM MY LOVING OH SO DEEP. SWEET DREAMS MY LOVE. I LAY MY HEAD ON HIS CHEST AS HIS STRONG ARMS EMBRACES ME, WITH THE REASSURANCE OF WHERE HE WANTS TO BE, IN MY LOVING ARMS SLEEPING NEXT TO ME. I WATCH HIM SLEEPING SO BEAUTIFULLY PERFECT TO ME, MY MAN AND  ME SLEEPING TOGETHER IN PERTECT HARMONY. PEACE

Doing What’s Best For Me

BY LYNDA 3/26/17
I HAVE TO DO WHAT’S BEST FOR ME, AND YOU ARE NOT. 

YOU’RE A BIG LIE TO A BROKEN PROMISE. YOU’RE A CONTRADICTION TO MY BAD ADDICTION. 

YOU’RE, YOU’RE A CHASER TO YOUR CHALLENGE, ONCE THE CHASE IS ERASED, THE CHALLENGE IS DONE. 

YOU’RE THE REPEATER OF MY SAME MISTAKES.

DEALING WITH THE SAME MAN WITH A DIFFERENT FACE. YOU’RE NOT MY LOVER. 

YOU’RE JUST THE FANTASY OF A FREAKY ME. 

I’M THE EMBARRASSMENT OF YOUR SHAMEFUL BEHAVIOR.

ASHAMED TO BE SEEN WITH THIS DISABLED HUMAN BEING. 

YOU’RE THE WASTE OF MY TIME, THERE’S NOTHING YOU HAVE GIVEN TO ME, BUT A GUARANTEE ON WHAT NOT TO DO. 

I’LL NEVER  END UP WITH ANOTHER SELFISH MAN LIKE YOU. 

PEACE

IN THE DARK

A Queen T original

I close my door and park my chair to block it.

I pull the curtains so the sun can’t warm my face.

Turn off the lights and take in the sounds of silence.

I’m expecting my checks to be drenched in emotion very soon.

This is my usual after all.

I can never say it because I’m afraid to hurt myself.

The words burn my eyes and blurs the world around me.

Whispering “why can’t I just be happy? Be healthy? Be in love?”

But something different happens

Only a lone tear falls

And I’m numb

I feel nothing

Just a void where my heart once pumped

I’m out of tears I suppose

So I turn on the light and collect my art

Turn up the music and loose myself in my own world

Don’t need anything but the music and my art

It become infused

My life is in my works

My art is my emotion

My heart has disappeared

Work it out

I am lazy. This is no secret. The most energy I willingly excert is on art. Art is my happy place. I can literally sit and color all day and be content. Sometimes art isn’t enough though and shadows of depression sneak up on me. Those are the days I need to exercise. Granted at 3 foot 7 and over 200 pounds I should probably exercise on a regular basis but like I said earlier, I’m lazy. I’m not a solo exerciser, I need to be in a group and luckily for me there are wheelchair accessible gyms that I go to and friends who motivate me to do better. Do you have a support system?