Butta

Writing how im feelings is starting to give me the worst pain in my wrist but mostly because i have to write so fucking much for work. This post is dedicated to my very stressful job that I just wrote a death sentence for. AKA a very anticipated 2 week notice letter. I have no job lined up, no potential job im actually excited to work and no position that interest me that won’t take up 90% of my fucking hard earned light energy. Instead i have a business and possible breaker of chains and generational curses of dreams that only gets the credit when the money is flowing in. Unfortunately the new apartment that looks over a very beautiful NYC skyline is under my mothers name and if i don’t keep this fucking piece of shit of a job then she will not only hate me for putting her under so much stress i’d just hate myself for doing it. The truth of the matter is in fact that, the job is not the problem, thinking that any job will give me satisfaction is. This isn’t a i have to replace this job for a better one dilemma, its in fact fuck all these jobs and its time to bet on myself. i am so fucking talented and gifted in the kitchen. I watch cooking shows and videos all the time, and get so inspired mostly at myself and the gifts that i have locked away collecting dust cause im too busy waiting on the right opportunity to go full throttle for my business. The most i can do is keep applying to other jobs that will pay me more and hopefully expect less energy out of me, but im not even sure if this job exist. People are always so quick to talk about how much money is out there for black women who are in business, well id love the link to all this free money y'all are talking about cause i don’t see it. Even the ppp loan, i legitimized my business last year before my birthday and that was cool but when i tried to apply for that fucking loan that everyone got up to 10k for on businesses that didn’t fucking exist, i got a rejection letter loll. Isn’t that the funniest shit you’ve ever herd of. So yea idk and now im rambling and complaining when i should be so grateful that i have the beautiful little studio to be creative in, but i have zero creative energy after working this stupid ass job. what i want is to be free from the chains of expectation. I actually hate that anyone expected anything from me these days. i want to just be able to live. All my life i feel as if someone is expecting me to show up show love be strong be the ear the shoulder the laughter the light and i can be all of those this. The problem is that after all of that expectation from me, every time i expect anything from anyone else i am distraughtly disappointed. Where do i go from here? i do i choose what’s right for me in when everyone around me feels like they are waiting for me to do what they think is right for me.