Before getting my sexy back, I spoke with y’all about experiencing different chapters in our lives. For those of us who are committed readers, how many happy endings did you come to before reading about the villain who came and fucked everything up? How many of us can actually acknowledge that sometimes we’re the villain in our own stories?

Through this transition, I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection, as I frequently do. I’ve never been the type of person to label myself as a victim or to even carry the title proudly as some do. I realized while processing my current chapter that I’ve been the villain in my own story on a few occasions. Many of the recent traumas I experienced were because I allowed them to happen and this revelation has lead me to kicking myself in my own ass … beating myself up for allowing such bullshit to not only occur but continue.

Now, I’m no longer beating myself up. I’m accepting the lessons I decided to learn the hard way and forgiving myself as well.

I forgive myself for losing myself while helping others find themselves.

I forgive myself for trying to be the peacemaker even though being the peacemaker isn’t always peaceful.

I forgive myself for meeting someone at their potential rather than accepting their reality.

I forgive myself for settling for less than I deserved.

I forgive myself for thinking I deserved less.

I forgive myself for doubting my self worth.

I forgive myself for feeling as though it was my obligation to heal someone.

I forgive myself for placing myself and my feelings second to others.

I forgive myself for being a rehabilitation center for others instead of using my own tools to rehabilitate myself.

I saw a meme that said “no one tells you this but the healing hurts more than the wound” and I’ll be damned if that ain’t the truth. Your healing is your responsibility. There’s going to be the good parts, the bad, and the ugly … because when I cry, I give Taraji a run for her money with the ugly cry LOL. It’s all apart of the process though … you can’t skip these parts and don’t try to as you’re only hindering your process. Keep pushing y’all … and forgive yourself because there ain’t one of us out here who’s perfect.

Bringing Sexy Back.

Today I saw a quote on Facebook that said “Being called ugly all your life then having people attracted to you in adulthood is weird”, and I immediately felt that. Growing up, I was always chubby, heavy set, overweight … whatever the hell they wanted to call it. I never knew what it felt like to be desired or wanted in middle school and high school. My tomboy ass was on the basketball team and rocked straight back cornrows like I was Cleo in Set It Off. I rocked Jordans like it was my job and the most girly thing about me were my SWV nails, LOL.

Life changed when I got to college and I started receiving compliments which I couldn’t take to save my life. One of those compliments were “sexy.” My awkward ass didn’t know ANYTHING about being sexy. SEXY?! I was the type who would try winking at a dude and ended up blinking but each eye was delayed. Embarrassing much? Lap dance? HA! Excuse me while I fall over your legs and step on your toes .. SEND HELP SOMEBODY! I need Meg the Stallion’s knees!

Reclaiming your “sexy” is no easy task, especially after a bad relationship or a string of bad relationships where your confidence took a hit. Remember last week when I spoke about chapters … well, bringing sexy back is apart of my “self” chapter. I recently spent a weekend with my sister tribe and we enjoyed some libations and laughs. Apart of the soirée was to wear some sexy lingerie and I, for one, have never wore sexy lingerie. First of all, some of the shit be complicated as hell. Where does this string go? This snaps to what? F*ck it, be happy my bra and panties match sir 😂

I am in a space where I get sexy for myself and I let my definition of “sexy” be what it is. I’m awkward and I’m funny therefore that’s what comes along with my “sexy.” Sometimes I will prance around my apartment by myself in my little sexy numbers with music playing and wine in my glass. When I pass by a mirror, I hit reverse and say, “DAMN GIRL … YOU KILLIN’ EM!” I say all of this to say, embrace your sexy again ladies. Do it for yourself and enjoy it because regardless of your size or shape, you look good girl! Don’t you EVER forget it!

In conclusion, I can write some sexy shit so I’m blessing y’all with a little something …



There he stood, with eyes glaring at me from behind black-rimmed glasses and a smirk on his face.
Meanwhile I stood before him, motionless and wondering how on Earth did I get to this place?
I’ve fought these feelings, this temptation … date after date,
Thinking back to that movie like “90 days girl, make him wait.”
But the sexual tension began to build higher than the wall I’ve made,
and the anxiousness I’ve been feeling, I can no longer escape.
He took a step forward and pulled me into his chest,
so close I could smell the cologne he wore through his vest.
Our eyes met where I could see his lust and desire,
my breathing quickened, preparing for what was about to transpire.
He grabbed the back of my neck as our lips met,
and our tongues danced as my hands tugged at his pants.
He broke our kiss and released me suddenly,
as I stood there … hot, bothered, and ready.
”Tell me what you want,” he said as he walked over and sat on the bed.
”I want you to fuck me”, I replied, looking directly in his eyes.
He smiled and laid back with his hands behind his head and said, “I want you to beg.”
I walked over to him and sat myself on his lap as I pulled him up and wrapped my legs around his back.
He grabbed me by the hair, pulling my head back as I heard the hooks of my bra unsnap.
My neck was exposed and the trail he left with his tongue to my earlobe resulted in the curling of my toes.
I couldn’t fathom some of the sensations he’s awakened,
as he licks and blows, my body shivers with every breath that I take in.
As he continued his assassination of my will, the urge increased for my juices to spill.
I could no longer withstand his tease and the last thing I remember as he slid his fingers in me was my moaning voice cry out …




I think it’s safe to refer to myself as a writer now but what I’ve always been is a reader. To me, there’s nothing like a good book to sit down and get lost in. A truly good book would have you wanting to skip ahead because certain chapters were taking too long. This is what I’ve been doing in my own story.

I don’t believe in New Years resolutions. If I made a resolution, it was always to lose weight and would end up in an epic fail LOL. Instead of having a resolution, I would consider the new year a new chapter in my life and I’d name it. For the past few years, I’ve been naming chapters “Self” over and over again because I screwed up the story the chapter before.

I was constantly naming chapters “Self” because I kept telling myself, this is the part of my story where it’s going to be solely about me … and it wouldn’t be. I kept trying to skip this chapter and get to the good part because writing your own story without any supporting characters is outright hard. I never thought being the main character of my own story would be so lonely. In most good books, (well the romance ones I read) the main character has some type of hero that swoops in and saves the day … saves the story.

In life, we have to realize that we are the authors of our own stories. We can’t look for that hero to come and change the storyline. The pen is always in our hands therefore we’re in control. I know some of us would prefer writing our stories in pencil so we can erase the mistakes. I have plenty of mistakes that I wish I could erase but it’s those mistakes that make the story worth turning the page.

From now on, I’m writing my story in pen … without hesitation. I’m not perfect so the mistakes will continue to be made meaning the lessons will continue to be learned. I’ve decided to take a break off the “Love” chapter. I can always go back to that … when I’m ready. In this part of the story, I’m just going to keep writing and hopefully the main character of Shayna will continue to grow. Keep turning the pages … there is more to come.






Time Heals All.

How many of us can actually say we give ourselves time to heal? How often do we engage in the healing process after we’ve experienced a traumatic or life-altering event? Do we take the necessary steps? Do we rush it or do we just completely ignore the whole thing and act as if it never happened?

I can confidently say I’m one of those people who never actually engaged in healing. I either rushed the process or acted like the event never happened. I was the type to experience a heartbreak then jump head first into another shitty ass situation … just making the same mistakes I had before. Ignoring the red flags I was well aware of and just focusing on the “love” I had been longing for.

I’m currently in a healing process and I’m doing things differently this time around. With that being said, I am uncomfortable as all hell. How does someone who never put themselves first learn this new behavior of being selfish? How does someone who had barely any boundaries now start drawing lines in front of people they used to feel they couldn’t live without? … with time, patience, and work!

I’ll be the first to say I’m an impatient person. I despise waiting .. especially for something I dearly want and feel I deserve. Being impatient though is what’s gotten me into situations that I had no business in. I’d be in those situations and have the patience of a saint yet the whole time, I was unhappy. Unhappy and thinking, “If I give it more time, things will change.” Stupid, right? Hey, we’ve all been there before but hopefully, a lightbulb has went off for some of us and we realize it’s time for a change. There are also those of us who are hard learners and think, “let me try this a third or fourth time, JUST TO BE SURE.”

Change is uncomfortable but growth is apart of the process. Don’t stay in a situation because to you, it has become your new “normal.” There’s nothing normal about being unhappy. There’s nothing normal about losing yourself and settling for the bare minimum. The healing process will not always be fun. Hell, it’s a rollercoaster ride with times where you feel yourself heading up, anticipating what’s at the top. Then suddenly, you hit a drop and you’re just screaming while you plummet and hope you don’t hit the bottom. Embrace it .. the uncomfortable and the ugly because in the end, a beautiful butterfly breaks out of the cocoon. If this healing process thus far has taught me anything, it’s taught me that putting me first isn’t selfish … it’s necessary.

Heal first … love can wait but self … cannot.” – Moore or Less

That Wasn’t Your Place.

Stop asserting yourself into a role you weren’t asked to fulfill.

In figuring out my purpose, I’ve played many roles in life that were not meant for me. There is one role that I reflect on most. I was never asked to play this role. I never auditioned for it. I just asserted myself into it. My childhood trauma impacted me to the point where I was scared of conflict … even the ones that didn’t concern me. I always remembered myself as being the peacemaker, trying to make sure everyone was happy because things were good when everyone was happy.

Now that I am in my 30s, I realized these circumstances led me to become a “fixer.” I was someone who was broken … so in return, I ran around trying to fix everything and everyone I came across. This tied into my relationships as I attracted some of the most broken people. When we become young first time daters, we don’t ask the person we’re dating, “what happened in your childhood that has made you the person you are today?” We don’t ask, “have you any demons that you haven’t addressed through therapy?” In our teens and 20s, we weren’t thinking about things like that even though we were setting up a beautiful life with this person in our minds already. Fixers like myself saw all of your past trials and tribulations that hurt you and thought, “I can fix this.” I thought with this big and generous heart that God blessed me with, I could love away another’s trauma. I thought I could affirm away their insecurities. What I didn’t realize was picking up someone else’s broken pieces only cut me.

Hurt people hurt people, especially when hurt goes unacknowledged. You obsess over proving yourself as the fixer, not realizing that this stems from your own trauma. You’re doing your best to prove your worth and you’re far different from the disappointments that this person has experienced.

Fixers feel like they get what they deserve. If they have been treated like shit then obviously it’s something the fixer is doing wrong. In true fixer fashion, fixers try to “fix it” in the hopes of being loved again. Being a fixer is a toxic trait that many of us have to let go of.

Boundaries are important when you’re overcoming being a fixer. When you’re a fixer, you’re also a giver and you have to be mindful of your limits because these takers have none. Don’t let someone guilt trip you into believing you’re obligated. You are not responsible for the broken pieces of others … just your own.

As for me, I don’t consider myself as broke anymore. I spent a lot of time falling in love with broken people. I spent a lot of time being a fixer and a healer for others. To combat that, I am spending plenty of time alone so that I could fall in love with myself and receive a taste of my own medicine. No longer a fixer, I am now a potter … someone who put the pieces of her broken pottery back together with her own hands.

Without a Purpose.

The chapter of life I am currently in right now is learning to manifest the life that I want. I’ve always felt that my life was meant for more than just working a 9-5. My life was meant to be remembered. My life was meant to leave a mark. Though I felt all of this, a question always lingered in the deep crevices of my thoughts and feelings. What is my purpose? In my 31 years of life, I’ve yet to figure out what it is I am here for.

When I was growing up, I wanted to be many things. I remember watching “Harriet the Spy” and thinking that I wanted to be a writer. At a young age, I was already into journaling but after watching the movie, I dove deeper into my writing. I would either people watch or use my own life experiences to write short stories. I began collecting notebooks and pens, and still do to this day. Besides Reese’s and a nice bag of Smartfood white cheddar cheese popcorn, the way to my heart was a beautiful notebook with lined paper and a nice writing pen.

There was even a point in time where I felt I could be an influencer. I wanted to influence an audience who related to me on some of life’s daily and personal struggles. In 2017, I accomplished my weight loss goal for the first time ever out of all my attempts throughout my life. I accomplished this victory with the assistance of Herbalife products. My weight loss and the reactions of others to my transformation motivated me to become a distributor. I was also watching people like my sponsor achieve financial freedom and take trips to places that I had only dreamed of. I only managed to get 3 people on my team before I became discouraged and gave up. I felt I wasn’t receiving the support I needed to keep going. Now here we are in 2020 and the same people who told me “no” are now the same people who are promoting Herbalife or the new craze, Iaso tea and Nutraburst. No judgment whatsoever. By all means, get your coins and go off sis! My point is imagine where I’d be three years later had I not stopped. Imagine if I had believed in myself!

Now that I am older, I am searching for what truly lights my soul on fire. Is it still writing? I can say that Moore or Less is my baby … something I created of my own free will and creative mind. Who knows where this blog will take me, what potential it holds? There are days where doubt sets in because who am I to think that my words matter or are worth reading? That was a thought until one day my mother, who supports even my wildest ideas, says that she’s waiting on a book one day. This blog may just be the beginning.

I say all of this to say, don’t let life pass you by without chasing what it is that brings you true happiness. Do not let anyone detour you from your purpose. Be mindful of people who are comfortable and content in their stagnancy. Not everyone is going to share the same ambition as you. Not everyone is going to see your vision. Realize that not everyone can go with you. Pay attention to yourself. Focus on your mission, your goals. This is a process, a rough and sometimes ugly one that will reap fruitful benefits … if you believe. Let’s continue to heal and grow together because growth …


… to be continued.



Life … we come into it not knowing a damn thing to expect. Lately, this pandemic has offered me the time to actually sit and be still. It is in these still moments where I reflected on self and how I’ve navigated the last 31 years of my life. Though I have many accomplishments that I am proud of, I still feel as though I have not lived life. I feel as though I have only been existing. During this pandemic, I realized that there were so many things that I’ve wanted to do but never done and the thought of not being able to do those things has made my anxiety go haywire.

I have always been the type to have an idea but would refrain from executing it because I thought too much of what others would think of me. I would start a new journey and would abandon it because of my own negative self talk. I mean hell, y’all haven’t heard from me on Moore or Less because aside from writer’s block, I felt like no one was even taking the time to read what I had to say. It wasn’t until recently that I finally decided to stop being concerned and learned that even if only one person reads, the message is still received.

Have you ever played the game of Life? The object of the game is to navigate your way through life, making decisions, building a family, and earning money … while also paying some, too. Whoever has the “highest value” at the end of the game wins. If you ask me, none of those things constitutes a high value of life … at least not for me. I define my highest value of life differently. I feel that there is more to life than paying bills and following a daily routine of just eat, work, and sleep. Now that I’ve considered what is going to make me happy in life, I’ve decided to run for it at top speed. Have you ever thought what you define as the highest value for your life?

Too often we occupy our time just scrolling and watching, scrolling and watching. Some of us watch in awe, some of us in admiration, and some of us in envy. Life is a gift and everyday we are given an opportunity to enhance that gift. Stop hesitating. Figure out what you want and write that shit down, then create an action plan. Remember that faith without works is dead. Tighten your boot straps and proceed to fuck shit up.



Friends Break Hearts, Too.

It’s weird how time changes things. Growing up, my childhood trauma and codependency lead me to establish friendships that weren’t always meant for my higher good. I’m an only girl and being an only girl had me looking for sisterhood anywhere I could find it. As a young girl, I was always looking for acceptance and validation … but that wasn’t always what I found.

I remember every connection I’ve ever had with certain individuals with whom I’ve considered to be a friend. There are so many times where I begin to miss them and take a trip down memory lane but these memories also caused me to remember the disrespect.

In the past, I’ve tolerated the highest levels of bullshit and disrespect for the sake of keeping a friend. Trust me, I had all of the excuses for these ain’t shit friends:

”They didn’t mean it.”

”They said they were sorry.”

”We’ve known each other for so long.”

Nikkie’s Thoughts said it best, “Time don’t mean shit! Time is a man made concept. You can meet someone tomorrow who has better intentions and supports you wholeheartedly more than somebody you’ve known all your life.”

I had to learn to accept this harsh reality because I was keeping too many people around straight off of longevity and the love I had for them. Things always started off good in the beginning. We’d hang out and have a good time. We’d laugh and share jokes. Hell, we’d even partake in some gossip together. Soon after, the tables turn and now you’re the topic of conversation when you aren’t around. You start noticing differences in behavior towards you when y’all are around other people. Snide comments are made about your achievements or they’re disguised in sarcastic compliments. You’re left out of certain events and outings because “they forgot” or “they didn’t think you’d want to go.” You realize you’re the one always reaching out and once you decide to no longer extend the effort, y’all no longer speak.

I can’t say how many times this has happened to me in my life. I’ve honestly lost count. I used to grieve and mourn as if I’d just ended a romantic relationship. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized not everyone you lose is a loss. These friendships had to happen and they had to end because I wasn’t holding them or myself accountable. These “friends” were only doing to me what I allowed. As I grew and matured, my tolerance for half-assed friendships lessened and my friendship circles grew smaller.

I’ve experienced my share of friendship heartbreaks, one being recent, and the impact still weighs heavy on my heart to this day. I’ve had people whose opinions I’ve valued point out unhealthy behavior and toxicity in the past that I completely ignored. When you think you know someone, you feel there’s no one who can speak about them to you. Unfortunately, true colors tend to show when situations change. I think as our stories unfold and we write our chapters, never do we think that someone we considered a friend would be written as a villain.

I recently attended a retreat called The Mending Space where I met and connected with women I had never met before. With these women, I felt safe. It was there where I learned that your true friends must provide you with a safe space. Space to be yourself, space to release without judgment, and space to be vulnerable. Friendships are a different version of love. If you can’t comfortably tell your friends you love them or receive it back, spare yourself the heartbreak.

Venture out. Build new connections. Establish healthy boundaries. Love yourself first and everyone else second. Don’t hold or carry any hate in your heart because it’s too heavy of a burden for YOU to bear. Hell, I still have love for old friends as I had loved them before. So to wrap this up, shout out to those “friends.” I still wish the best for you. I still have love for you.


Stay away from me though.



What makes you a good friend is not doing something that you know will intentionally hurt another person.

Secret Warfare.

I woke up this morning but I continued to lay in bed. Eyes wide open, basking in the darkness, hitting the snooze button repeatedly. I tossed and turned, fighting the urge to stay where I lay. Here we go, my feet are finally touching the floor as I sit upright at the side of my bed. Inhale, exhale. Fuck … I have to go to work today. I want to be alone. I want to stay home but I have to go to work today. I stand up … that’s progress. What will I wear today? I don’t like that because it makes me look fat. I can’t wear this because it no longer fits. Now I’m back on the bed, crying as clothes are scattered everywhere. Screw it, I’ll just wear something black. Black is slimming, isn’t it? It’s time to shower so let’s stand here under the water for about an hour and just … THINK. Let’s cry a little bit in the hopes of feeling better. Now let’s put on my smile like I put on my makeup and push through the day.

I made the drive to work while having several mini episodes because of traffic. I knew I should have stayed home. I walk in the building and force a decent amount of smiles and good mornings even though I don’t want to. Well damn, Jane didn’t speak … the fucks her problem? Why was my supervisor’s greeting so lackluster? Did I do something wrong? Let me check my emails. Nothing there but a few requests from my clients in need. Let me start a to-do list. “Hey Shayna, can you help me with this?”

And it begins … my cellphone goes off. “Hey, do you have a minute? I need to talk.” Sigh! Okay, I never leave a friend hanging. Let me find somewhere private to talk. 15 minutes later, I need to make my tea. I finally have some time to breathe … *tap on cubicle* “Hey Shayna, can you…?” Let’s force a smile. I knew I should have stayed home. Two hours later, is it lunch time? What’s for lunch? I need to be mindful of what I eat. I can’t gain any more weight. “Shayna, the team is having lunch together. Come on.” I don’t really want to but whatever. Another forced smile. Why can’t we just sit here in silence? Why did I choose this career path? I’d rather be traveling. Let me get back to work. *Checks phone* No messages. Where’s my fiancé? My mom is taking awhile to text back. What’s my dad doing? Probably living that retired life. Shit, my weekly report. Ugh, I need a job that pays more money. Why can’t my life be different? When is it going to be my turn? I’m so sick of this. I deserve better. No, I don’t. I never finish what I start. I’m a failure. Nothing I do is good enough. Is it 5:00 yet? *checks* THANK GOD!

Finally time to leave. Fuck, there’s traffic. I want to call someone and just … talk, but I don’t want to bother anyone. No one’s called or text to check on me either. Oh well. Traffic’s moving. I have to cook dinner, I don’t feel like cooking. Damn, I need to exercise but I’m tired. Traffic is at a standstill again. *Checks Instagram* Another Herbalife post, a SlimTea and FlatTummy tea promoter, and a new body fresh out of surgery. *Sigh* I‘m finally home. Where’s my bed? I’m exhausted. Thoughts, pease be quiet … I need to sleep.

Fiancé is home and I’m finally asked … “Are you okay?”


”Yes, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”



Depression is not a choice. Depression is not always dark rooms and silence. It’s not always ignoring calls and not answering text messages. Depression is putting on a mask. Depression is forcing yourself to show up. Depression is constant. Throw a little anxiety on top and you have a beautiful clusterfuck. Depression and anxiety are not easily noticeable. You can’t see them but they are felt constantly, consistently. Having depression and anxiety can be best explained as feeling like you’re drowning but not having the motivation to swim up for air. This is why they’re called the silent killers. People are at war every single day and you would never know as some of us are high-functioning. Be kind. Be patient. Check on your friends. Check on yourself. If you’re still here, I’m proud of you and I love you.


#NationalSuicidePreventionWeek #February24th #ImStillHere

Turning 30 has taught me …

Distance and shutting the entire fuck up.


It’s been about five months into my chapter 30 and I’ve learned so much already … currently still learning and growing. Distance is one of those lessons that I learned. I’ve learned to stop asking for advice and to stop listening to other people. This way, I can’t blame anyone for my decisions and I can celebrate myself when I make positive decisions that are beneficial to me and my future. With that being said, I mind my business, hold on to my business, drink my water and talk to God, A LOT!

I began to create distance in my relationships with people. I started looking for people less and started looking for me more. As selfish as it sounds, I stopped checking in with people to see how THEY were and started checking in with myself. I came to this realization when my therapist asked me how things went once I wrote and posted “Black Girl, Interrupted.” I explained the reactions I received with some pouring love in to me while others judged me. My therapist confused me by asking how I was when I thought we were talking about my blog. I looked at her funny and answered, “I’m fine.” She continued starting at me and asked me again, “How are you?” Before I could answer, she cut me off and told me to tell the truth. After a brief moment of silence, I shrugged my shoulders. She then asked me when was the last time someone asked me how I was and when was the last time I gave a genuine answer. Silence again. She said to me, “Being transparent isn’t easy, is it?” Especially when you’re screaming in a room full of people but no one acknowledges you though they hear you.” BITCH!!! This is what led me to shutting the fuck up!

Anybody watch Grace and Frankie? That’s my damn show, first off. But anyway, it wasn’t until season 5, episode 12 where I had my STFU epiphany. Shorty was at dinner, TURNT and her husband tried to shit on her good time and say, “It’s time to take you home!” Let me tell y’all … Goldie wasn’t having none of that! She slammed her hand on that dining room table and said, and I quote:

“Vince … look at me. Look at me in the windows to my soul. SHUT THE FUCK UP! Shut all the way the fuck up until you reach the top of SHUT FUCK MOUNTAIN where there are no more fuck ups to shut!”

After I finished laughing my ass off, something in my head said:


Shut the fuck up, Shayna! You don’t have to tell everybody everything because honestly, THAT WAS ME! I was always telling my business whether it was personal, professional, family, friends, or relationships, I TOLD IT! I felt like I had nothing to hide so why not? It wasn’t until a wise woman said to me, “There are people who ask how you are because they genuinely want to know and there are people who ask how you are to see if you have anything bad to say.” Ma’am, lower your voice, you ain’t have to holler. This was very true though. I had to learn that my life was not the latest gossip, it wasn’t the tea of the day, and it wasn’t ammunition for those who had better talk shit about my life instead of sweeping around their own doorstep.

Taking this advice has helped me to listen and observe more than I spoke. I realized how much I didn’t know about others. I realized that social media was how a majority of the people in my life kept up with me so I started posting less. I realized how at peace I felt with keeping things between me and God. I also began to realize who was who. With all of these realizations, I’ve realized most of all that I’ve grown in so many ways. I’m not perfect, I fuck up and will continue to but I’m accepting of it now. I take care of me so much better now than I used to. I say no. I ignore phone calls when I don’t feel like talking and find no obligation in having to call anyone back. If it’s an emergency, call 911. I got my own shit going on, and that shit is my mental health.

I have depression and anxiety, and they are my disorders. I’d rather use “disorders” than diseases because I don’t find myself to be “sick.” But they are MINE. I find strength in claiming them because I fight these hoes every damn day, SINGLEHANDEDLY. After February 24th, I got “STRENGTH” tatted on my forearm because I beat depression that day. I went Arya Stark on its ass.


There will be more days like February 24th, this I know. I find comfort in knowing that I am built for this fight. So when you come with negativity, bullshit, lies, and anything that is disturbing to my spirit … keep moving because turning 30 has taught me … I’M WAY TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT!