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I’m not living up to my full potential.

Crazy way to start a verse, right?

I’m not living up to my full potential. I’ve been aware of this for a minute, probably since a couple months after I got the current job I have.

I’ve had this tumblr for four years. The few followers I have, you’ve gathered what I love most - writing.

I’m a writer - mind, body, and spirit. I never aspired to be anything when I was a kid. Didn’t want to be a nurse or a librarian. Not a doctor or a lawyer. I literally never voiced what I wanted to be throughout my childhood. I wasn’t encouraged to do so, so I didn’t.

Eventually, I learned I had this talent for putting words together and creating something that a person my age wouldn’t even think of. I never aspired to a specific career as a child, but I learned about writers that wrote for magazines. Magazines I read often.

I figured, okay that’s what I want to do then: I can write what I want and get paid to do it, great.

Fast forward a good amount of years later: I’ve been an ice cream server, a cashier, a shipping and receiving supervisor, store manager, and a bunch of other shit including personal assistant.

That was a damn doozy.

There’s always been a pattern with me and the jobs I’ve had, the types of relationships I’ve had with people - I’m the nurturer. I’m the caretaker. I put everyone’s needs before my own and while I normally get fed up and end that for a period of time, normally I jump right back into that lane.

Like now - I’m a receptionist, meaning I’m the office mother to about 30-40 messy adolescents. They’re adults, really, I’m just going with the analogy - float with me.

I SHOULD be a content editor for some publication, be it online or print. I SHOULD be writing about the things I want to write about and getting paid to do so.

Instead, I settle for the position of taking care of others and my pockets are fine but I’M not being taken care of. I don’t have the time to write about what I care about because I’m running dishwashers and carrying heavy ass boxes around the office like I’m not a 105lb woman with the muscle of a five year old.

How am I am going to get myself out of this “predicament”? I don’t know. I’m not posing any questions to seem deep or anything. This is just shit I need to see in words for me to finally get that I’m not where I want to be in my life.

The beauty of all this is I have an opportunity to turn all this around and get somewhere near where I want to go. Now the question is, why haven’t I done that yet?

Again, I don’t know. I do know that my love for writing will always keep me wanting to figure out a way to get that. I just have to learn to not let certain things box me out from my goals.

I WILL be a content editor for some publication, be it online or print.

I WILL be writing about the things I want to write about and getting paid to do so.

Mission: Full Potential - accepted.



The only kind of white boys I’ll date are the ones who can do this

white boys always killin the jig


(Source: taterthots)



So much wonderfulness!
I miss her! 😩



Black moms at their finest

Every time lol

Ruining ALL of the fun. Way to go, Mom 😒

(Source: vinebox)

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