put your lighters up

some people go out of their way to make your life incredibly miserable.

just for the sake of hate. and they will try to destroy you and talk bad about you. manipulate situations to save themselves. they'll eat their own if it means they can maintain their agenda.

ive had so many haters in my life. i remember each and every one of them. there's felicia when i was 7, who dared attack me (and my mom) because of my name. i had to do battle with her at the richard simmons gym my mom was a member of. finally ,we came to blows and my mom was alerted in the middle of her cardio session that i had the girl with her face pinned to the wall and her arm twisted behind her back. when i was 12, there was aiesha, the ghettoslut from ingleside who called me a bitch, a sellout and whitewashed daily for two weeks while i rode home on the K in silence. 14 days in i finally got off the bus, followed her to the library and proceeded to whoop her ass. she never called me a bitch, or anything else again. when i was 14, there was ayana. she took every opportunity to mortify me for no good damn reason. she relented when i put a popsicle stick in her and she carried it with her for the better part of lunch and into the 4th period.

when i was 19, there was erica fontenot. she was of the short, squat squarebodied type. took every opportunity to insult my existence but pretended to be my best friend. when i went home with two of the hottest guys at our job @ niketown, she proceeded to tell them both I had an STD. (ed. : I DIDNT!) i still owe her a beatdown. there's the lesbian parents of one of my best friends who while an A student and an ace flutist, felt i was an incredibly bad influence because their daughter was hanging out late, dating black men and gaining an appreciation for Boyz II Men. My fault? No. The girl was a terror, I didn't even know half of the mischief she committed. 15 years later, I'm in the table of contents of the magazine I work for this week:
and she is laying in a crypt somewhere in Colma, Ca.

Murdered in a heroin bust gone bad.

Look at the picture. Its ME! That's ME!!!! and with a HOT DUDE at that.

so haters pump yo breaks...people know i dont like to hate on people who don't deserve it, my intentions are true and i am NOT, repeat, NOT malicious. I don't have time for that kind of karma. but look at what i've worked so hard for. its not just the magazine picture, that's actually not blowing my mind. its all the hard work and attempts as success I've busted my ass to achieve. Its the simple recognition in my strengths, capabilities and focus.

to every hater out there who called me names, who talked bad about me behind my back, who set up agendas to manipulate my downfall, who lied on me and made up stories, who tried to breakdown and destroy my faith: y'all can just kiss my ass.