carlespiemaryalice

I hate being wrong; I detest it. In fact, I abhor being wrong so much that I desperately want to know when I am so that I can stop being wrong.

I am a man not because I am a heterosexual male. To me, manhood is independent of one’s sexual orientation. I am a man for the same reason a woman is a woman. Humanity trumps all the labels we pin on each other and humanity is the idea that being straight is no more relevant to being a man or a woman than being a fish has anything to do with riding a bicycle.

I have seen many males who impersonate men; they beat women.

I want to know everything – everything from why is there each and everything, to how is there anything. In short, I want to know what “God” knows because what we know is worth as much as what we flush down the toilet.

I am more afraid of running out of time than of dying. To me, those are two different things.

I have never tried to control a woman. To the weak, that was a license to try to do to me what I refuse to do to them. Oh darling, thy name was “fool” and thy status, “alone.”

I do not love or hate easily. I believe both emotions are precious; one should be done with care and caution while the other with deliberation and decisiveness. Which is which depends on the situation.

I realize that the kind of parent one is, is often, to some extent, a function of the kind of parent the other parent is. Nevertheless, I wish I could start over.

I have many regrets – as many painful ones as mundane ones. The most profound regret, however, is not knowing the why that would explain all the regrets and every single other thing about this reality.

If my mother knew all that I have done that I should not have done and all that I have not done that I should have done, she would be both proud and ashamed of me – one just a bit more than the other.

I wonder why White people do not go to beauty shops to make their hair look like Black people’s natural hair. Then I also ask the obvious question.