Optimist V. Pessimist

After speaking with my sister today, it helped me to put a lot of things that are happening around me right now into perspective. Everyone deserves love, to be loved without limitations, to be adored not just behind closed doors with your clothes off, but for the world to see. Just like a plant that you specifically went out and chosen, you wouldn’t place it under your bed or some other dark place to be kept and hid away, but instead you would place it where it would get the most nurture from all the elements it needs, you would speak to it kindly and about it to others excited about your new discovery. You would place it somewhere on display for all who came around to admire and gleam.

So, when I think of the type of love I am sure deserving of it, it involves nothing to be shamed about. The type of patience to make me feel the realness would come from a willing and honest man. One who respects himself, the earth and those who came before him. He would openly adore his mother, his sisters, his aunts, his female cousins. A man who’s attention is constantly divided, isn’t the man for me. I know a man that I view as my partner will be a man of importance so he will be someone who other people will need time with based upon the life God has chosen for him, but intimately he will solely be my own.

For all the triumphs I have triumph, the man for me will have not one issue with giving his undivided attention to me, for he will desire to give me nothing less. Mentally, emotionally, and physically I have been beaten, lied to, lied on, endured mass manipulation on levels some will never be able to comprehend in this lifetime. I have been belittled, ridiculed, severed emotionally and all of this from men who once upon a time comforted me, wiped my tears, eased my mind…the same men I allowed to intimately come close, ones I shared my fears and my most deepest dreams that live and grow inside and out of my mind. Taking into account a woman who has not only witnessed but felt such treatment from ones who she planned a life with, THE man for me will understand and want to calm my spirit, want to keep a smile on my face, continuously love me fiercely but ever so gently.

To come into a time and place where I am able to trust myself and emotions with another man, I am not sure when that will be, or if that time will ever come. The thought alone brings immeasurable sorrow, because I do believe everyone should experience a lifetime being engulfed in someone’s love, to feel totally free of pride or doubt when they think of their lovers love, but unfortunately, I just don’t know if that time will ever come for me. One day my story will be able to come out in full some of the names certainly will be changed but the events will all be true just the same, and then maybe once read the reason why my mind and feelings are set in such a destroyed and despondent way will come together and be ever clear. I don’t think anyone would actually desire to feel these abhorred emotions, that it is not possible to be able to experience a real love and all that it offers, so believe me when I say this is not purposefully, but such is life is to blame. I do not intend to make loving me hard or the road winning my passionate affection a thorny one, but I do believe the man for me will feel my past hurts and instead of leaving, pushing me away, harshly trying to change me, but instead he will be ever forbearing and incredibly reverent in using love not in only telling but in action form and aid in opening these cracked and brittle walls of my heart that were made and placed only out of protection and fear due to unfortunate events has been endured at the hands of someone else’s false sense of love.


When my mother first heard the name “The Ghetto Guru“, she hated it and suggested that I change it quick. Unlike the many pages, months, and finger aches I put into creating mauling over mashing up a name that I passionately felt that stuck; I wanted a name that would help describe myself, give shock value but also appeal to a following I’m destined to have. The Ghetto Guru came to me out of the blue, no lie on a random Monday afternoon! Just like the day my physical was birthed into this realm, on a Monday The Ghetto Guru was blessed as an angel šŸŒ¬whispered to me the name.

B. Smith – The Ghetto Guru:


She is I, her is me and like a woman of many hats, we are WE.So, if you ever wonder why I would give myself a name as such, first remember that an opinion is the lowest form of human intelligence but because of how I am designed I wish everyone nothing but wellness & luck.


a story to tell

Jambo Robyn

Stories about ordinary things

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Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV