June’s Entry
June’s Entry
Place: Virginia
Zaria,
Since you're in the bathroom getting ready, I figured I’d use this time to get a letter in.
North Carolina felt like a small change.
Preach doing the honor and baptizing me felt like a bit of my soul was free, but to be honest, though, a part of me still feels caged.
I don’t know how to describe it, but only a part of me was left at that waterfall.
The sad thing is, I don’t know which part.
I’m afraid, Z. I’m fucking terrified that I’m not going to make it.
Harvey told me my birthday had already come and gone, but when I woke up this morning, I thought it was only days away.
Why is it that when I finally feel something, something real, I seem to suffer more?
You know, when you asked to go out tonight, I wasn’t feeling it.
I would have much rather been laid up, but to know that you would miss out on a memory to add to your book, just in case, you know, God wanted to be selfish, I couldn’t do it.
Oftentimes, I think about what shit would look like for us.
You know, raising our kid and shit. I could see it, the house, the plants, the disastrous gatherings, ’cause one thing about my niggas, shit is always going to be a show.
I think about those things often, hoping it’ll be me and you growing old together.
Fuck! Life isn’t fair, and if I somehow come out of this shit, Z, I know this bad feeling I have isn’t the end.
I feel it. I know traveling to Toussaint isn’t a big deal to everyone else, but to me it is.
I can’t tell you that it’ll be worth it, but what I can tell you is that I will make sure you’re straight.
I’m saying all that to say, I’m going to marry you.
I put that shit on my life. By the time you come across this letter, you will have a nice ring sitting on your finger as you’re reading this.
If I have to marry you in the process of dying, then so fucking be it, but you will be Mrs. Calloway.
I don’t know if this is considered foreshadowing or whatever they call it, but it’s my truth.
Alright, you’re coming out of the bathroom. As always. I love you from here to Calloverse.
Signed,
Mr. Fucking Calloway