My Mission Statement.

If I ever had one, it would go something like this:

Do you know how many times I have felt down about myself?

Do you know how many times I have felt unworthy?…of love? Loving someone? Or being in love? Or being loved?

Do you know how many times I have endured the lie of “You don’t really deserve it, if you’re not good enough.”?

And do you know how many times I’ve just not been good enough for myself pr anyone else?

Do you know how many times I’ve been alone…in comparison to the times I’ve actually felt alone?

Do you know the number of times I have walked the streets at night, alone, just wandering: “where do I fit in?”

Do you know how many times I have blamed superstition, like: “Because I sinned today, I’m going to lose this match, or this girls going to leave me.”?…and then apologised for it.

Do you know the amount of times I have correctly identified my evil in front of me, in comparison to the silence I’ve taken when I was done evil too?

Do you know how hard I try to be perfect so that way maybe my daddy might love me?

Do you think, I think my mother cares?

Do you care?

I didn’t think so.

But that can’t be true, I mean, I don’t expect you to, I barely know you. But somehow, I know I love you, and I wish you would just love me too.

I know I’m a little f****d up sometimes, I know I let my pain touch the surface too many times in public. I swear it’s not on purpose…I’ll change I promise you.

But for who?

For you?

Why, I barely know you. But for someone, I wish I knew you too. And I swear I love you unconditionally, I may not show it. And I wish you loved me too.

Do you know how many times I’ve cried over my exes, thinking to myself: “Am I not alright?”

Then wondering why I cried in the first place, because they don’t care anyway right?

Then I’ve contemplated life. And death. And depression and suicide. But I’m too much of a coward to die. But not really, that’s a lie, I just don’t really wanna die. At least not yet, I love my life!

You know I do love it honestly, inside, despite all my self pity and unwelcoming pride, I don’t want to die and I don’t want to cry, but the latter keeps me alive at night when I feel like giving up.

It’s not fair, It’s not right. Why does this smiling – *Insert Age* Year Old) – boy/girl suffer so much in life. They bring so much joy, and so much life. God how can it be fair that they feel so lost, so broken hearted, so dead inside.

That’s what I would like to change anyway. If it was left up to my big heart, I’d do what God wants, I’d never let another day or life see pain again. I’d love everyone and everything, big, small, dull or bright. I’d give everyone and everything a chance to feel beautiful and wonderful in their own right.

Alright, alright, I’m done with the year 6 rhyming scheme but let me make this right.

If I had a mission statement, it’d probably sound a lot like this. I’d take every heart, every soulsouls every mind and bind it in love and never let go of it again, until the day I died.

God is love, Kwesi D

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