So this is me; Kyemma Vivian Campbell, writing again. This is the actual moment that heals my heart, knowing that the gift of words has always been embedded in my spirit yet bestowed upon me. Through my soul I've captured it all and have seen many a miracles through my crystal ball. And if I even had a crystal I'd be rich.
Do you know how many physics in New York City just get mega gigs, ripping people off?! No. I am not like this, not a physic but I trust my intuition.
No matter what happens to me I've always sprung up like the resilient flower that I am, not giving two flying fucks about what fellow man has had to say. I have led a nomadic lifestyle thanks to my mother, which led to a spiraling attitude. A happy one though now. Although I thank her because I am the very opposite of what and who she is, and yet this woman has taught me a valuable lesson.
The lesson was when it's time to move on move on and even if you're running away from the things that you seek to change--just do it. This is what I have gotten from moving so much and it made me want to face every god-for-saken thing that came past my way, because I am the very change I wish to see. I have always been me (the pariah), marching to the beat of my own drum, sipping wine rather than rum. The fact that my mother's kin hurt me when I was young didn't phase me, but lead me on a path to help others and speak out towards what was done.
I came upon this book at your nearest Barnes and Nobles in Union Square, and let's just say--the book brought me to a tear. The name of the book is "Speak." The story was of a beautiful young girl in Junior High, who had been raped in the closet by her best friend's boyfriend. Her best friend didn't believe her and it hurt the girl deeply, but she knew that she had to speak; just let it out and breathe. I thought it was beautiful that she had spoken and contacted her school administration, although the road was tough. It was a tough road, but she had too even if her friendship was never the same thereafter. The young man got what he deserved after the truth had been told. The book spoke to me.
It spoke to my heart in words louder than the world will ever know. I was always a happy child too, always had a tongue and would say how I felt regardless, and growing up I had always been called the "white girl." Those things which I called "punches" only made me stronger because I was bolder, tougher and knew what I had desired and could achieve more. Now that I think of it I used to runaway when I lived Upstate NY, before we moved to Pennsylvania. My dream home was Napa Valley, CA along with a golden retreiver. Since the age of 6 I'd been plotting this dream in my head. I had plans as a child and then my mother would tell me I had a smart mouth, as she'd found out because my brother tattled on me. My brother ratted me out because I ran away; I had potential but I could never find downtown. Not Upstate, I couldn't...
"She'd say Kyemma you have a smart mouth and I'm sending you to live with your father."
She meant my paternal father. You see, I was smarter than my age bracket and I believe for my own good. I believe that is why I am the woman that I am today because of the nomadic lifestyle I have lead, and dreams of having my own show and writing books for the rest of my life. At one time in life, I remember wanting to practice law; I think this is only because I wanted to make tons of money and tell everyone they were the weakest link especially my mothers wannabe friends. I hated all of them and we were going to move either way. Afterall, I felt I was too good for these people, I could spell government but not my mother's boyfriend!! From then I have been taking notes about my future adult life, that's why I was a little bitch growing up. It served its purpose, what with being encountered with such illiterate fucks; a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. The things that made me ecstatic as a young girl were reading books, power-walking and listening to the likes of Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears on Z100. It was tough, but as time progressed I knew what I was working with. And honey child sugar bun, it was good. I was a good kid; I just hated moving and none of the black girls liked me in Junior High--they all wanted to fight me because I was too white for them. And I ended up becoming the only one in my class to graduate from Frank A. Sedita Academy's 8th grade class. My thing was... you cannot be mad at me when you are whoring all over the place, making it rain (whatever you call it), and then you can't even spell "Europe" and you are in the 8th grade. That's pathetic. In any case, I could defend myself and I had a bodyguard, Sarah, who was also in the 8th grade and was my back-up. There was this girl who always spoke venom when it came to me, so I had to say something. And you better believe, my Britney Spears, N'Sync loving ass said it--Dalaina had no hair, and so what if all of my friends were spanish and white, you have no right to want to fight me when you cannot even pick up a blasted bloody dictionary. Those were in fact, the highlight of my years until I moved to Stroudsburg in the Pocono's and thought I was going to bloody high school. But, the high school started at 10th grade. It was amazingly unbelievable. Somehow, someway Stroudburg became my home. It's the very neighborhood where my family had grown and have stayed the lonegest. It is the place where I would meet my very best friend, Abby Cadabby. I think she was named after Abby-Cadabby from Sesame Street; she call me a fucking idiot all the time pending her reading this. She laughs at everything I say and she thinks I'm bossy. I am not, but prefer control over my own life. That's the life. This nomadic childhood has given me the strength to grow, find my own home, my pasta, love of coffee and wine, and always adjusting to the very notion of speaking my mind. I wouldn't be me if I were silent; I was made to speak!
I would just let it out and just breathe, just as the character in "Speak." Our lives were somewhat similar based upon what she'd been through; just talking to someone helped. Talking to someone and expressing my soul when I was 20 years of age helped me. I am not afraid to open my heart and take it all in. I am wary though because everyone who smiles in my face or says they love me is in no way my friend (including family).I feel like....where would if I didn't speak? How will I know if I'll ever be okay? Then it just dawns on you that you will always be okay because you are a survivor that has come to take her place.
I think believing, knowing and owning up to the shit you've done or been through is the biggest step in life. How many skeletons in the closet are you going to take before you can say I have had enough?! For the family or friends that love you or hate you, there's always gonna be a brighter tomorrow. And one simply cannot live their lives for the sake of others. You have to live for you; you've got one soul and body so what are you gonna do?
You can start living today; survive or pray. Whatever floats your boat, I'm here for the launch. The very choice is yours. Yet sometimes the best artists' come from the most scariest souls. Nothing will ever be easy but it's yours if you envision it.
"So my friends....what are you gonna be today....mmmh...?" The choice is yours.
Choose to survive and never fall in the cracks.
~Dedicated to someone I knew first a very long time ago: "we don't ever have to be close for me to love and care about you.You had me at the first breath."
Hope you enjoyed, everyone. Peace and Love.