All I Have Left.

Tyshaana Thomas                                                    June 12th, 2012

 I've been a writer for as long as I can honestly remember. But never have I ever experienced writers block to such an extreme. I have not written a damn thing since April 13, 2012. One day shy of three months. The crazy thing about it is, just recently somebody told me, "It's okay, you just need some inspiration." and then just walked right out of my life like it was the easiest thing they've ever done. Thanks for the inspiration, ASSHOLE. I'm Tyshaana Thomas, & I deserve somebody who gives a fuck.

 I've never been like any of these other girls out here. I was raised knowing the simple fact that, if you don't respect yourself; you can’t expect anybody else to respect you either & I lived by that. I've never had sex, I'm not running the streets, I didn't even get my first kiss till I was 17 & a half, & I sure as hell never had the, "Everybody's had her" reputation that a lot of these females have now-a-days. I am special, I'm a catch. But I guess it's true what they say, "The good guy always finishes last."

Well, I could sit here and get all super dramatic, but I’m not. I’m just going to state the facts of my generation. Drake said, “We live in a generation of not being in love, and not being together”, and if you ask me, nobody has said it better. It’s true. Nobody wants to dedicate his or her time and love to JUST one person anymore. Guys are looking for girls who don’t have standards, the ones they can call whenever they’re in need of a quick fix with no commitment. And well, if you’re a girl like me? The type of girl you can bring home to meet your family, the type of female who has morals? Well, sorry but it sucks to be you because your not what they’re looking for. J.Cole said were living in a world where we shun virgins, and praise hoes. The sad part is, its true. Good girls get used and abused and for what? Because other females have no class.

Something Different For Me..

“Dedicated to my Enchanted”, not a usual letter starter… but this is how all of these letters started that were delivered to my house on my 18^th birthday in a cardboard box. No return address, but one wasn’t needed because your location was already well known…

My heart.

Love tore apart by unsupportive by-standers and a single heart broken.

Just mines.

So I thought, but as I sat there with your letters in my hand, tears rolled down my face because then and only then did I realize

It wasn't just mines.

I had always thought that you had just forgotten about me and everything that we had 
You never fought for me…

NO, US.

And I could never understand why.

I never could understand anything ‘til this very day…

You always acted as if you were never fazed by any of this,

But here you had been writing me letters the whole time that we were apart…

The whole year and four months that we were

Forcefully

Separated…

When hard times came about,

“Don’t forget”

Were words of code that we whispered amongst each other.

Words only us, and a few close friends really knew the meaning of.

Don’t forget me …

Don’t forget …

iloveyou...

No two words said more,

Yet no two words did I think you would forget more quickly.

“My heart was never completely invested in letting you go, and I prayed that yours was never completely invested in letting me go either…”

The most memorable part of these letters…

No words replayed in my head more often then those, nor had my heart beating

So

Fast

That you could literally see it jumping out of my chest.

At this point the tears that were rolling down my face previous to this line,

Kicked into full-blown “waterfall” mode…

Therefore causing my fresh birthday make-up to run down my face.

Turns out you waited for me.

Just like I prayed you would.

“Dedicated to my Enchanted”

Yes still a strange way to start a letter, but as I spent my whole 18^th birthday reading and rereading these letters you wrote to me, while listening to music it all began to make sense.

Enchanted by Taylor Swift began to play

And as I sat there and listened to the lyrics I realized what it meant to not only be just “somebody’s” Enchanted,
But to be yours.

You were enchanted to meet me…

We were enchanted to be together.

But you know what’s crazy?

You signed all your letters

“The one who lost it all…”

And finally your name…

Sad thing is,

I was the one who really lost it all, as I opened my eyes to realize…

It was all

Just a dream …

Dedicated to MY Enchanted

“Dedicated to my Enchanted”, not a usual letter starter… but this is how all of these letters started that were delivered to my house on my 18^th birthday in a cardboard box. No return address, but one wasn’t needed because your location was already well known… My heart.

Love tore apart by unsupportive by-standers and a single heart broken. Just mines, so I thought but as I sat there with your letters in my hand, tears rolled down my face because then and only then did I realize it wasn't just mines. I had always thought that you had just forgotten about me and everything that we had. You never fought for me, no us and I could never understand why. I never could understand anything ‘til this very day. You always acted as if you were never fazed by any of this, but here you had been writing me letters the whole time that we were apart… The whole year and four months that we were forcefully separated.

When hard times came about, “Don’t forget” were words of code that we whispered amongst each other that only us, and a few close friends knew the meaning of. “Don’t forget me and don’t forget iloveyou...” No two words said more, but no two words did I think you would forget more quickly. But you didn't, you never forgot.

“My heart was never completely invested in letting you go, and I prayed that yours was never completely invested in letting me go either…” was the most memorable part of these letters… No words replayed in my head more often then those, nor had my heart beating so fast that you could literally see it jumping out of my chest. At this point the tears that were rolling down my face previous to this line, kicked into full-blown “waterfall” mode, causing my fresh birthday make up to run down my face. Turns out you waited for me, just like I prayed you would.

“Dedicated to my Enchanted”, yes still a strange way to start a letter, but as I spent my whole 18^th birthday reading and rereading these letters you wrote to me, while listening to music it all began to make sense. Enchanted by Taylor Swift began to play and as I sat there and listened to the lyrics I realized what it meant to not only be just “somebody’s” Enchanted, but to be yours. You were enchanted to meet me… we were enchanted to be together.

But you know what’s crazy? You signed all your letters, “The one who lost it all” and your name… Sad thing is, I was the one who really lost it all, as I opened my eyes to realize it was all just a dream …

After that, the change was complete... I was brand new. A few scrapes and bruises physically, but emotionally; I was finally okay. Weaker than strong, but stronger than weak. Less than prepared, but more than ready. Be STRONG, move on..






- This is a personal quote that I wrote not to long ago and I think its pretty creative. It actually ended up becoming a personal statement to myself, and somethings that I'm dealing with at the moment. When I first started to write this it really wasn't supposed to be so meaningful to me, but I don't know, when I just began to write and it hit me so hard I began to be engaged. And funny thing is, I tweeted this line and Jamez, was also engaged by it. 

White Buses ..

          White buses. Almost like school buses but all white. To you, these are JUST white buses; but to me on the other hand, they weren’t. I knew these buses were gonna be the buses to take my brother and hundreds of other troops to their first stop on their journey to Afghanistan. No bus did I despise more…

            Soldier Tyree R. Thomas, closest person to me, strongest person around me. My big brother, my rock and my personal diary. Just two years and eight months older than myself, fighting a war… and not the type of “war” normal 19 year olds are fighting…

             Me and my brother weren’t always close, I was always the annoying little sister he used to tease and beat up all the time. Until around my 15th birthday or so, that’s all I was. After that, things changed a lot. My brother began to be the nightmare teenager that no parent wanted to face. Skipping school, breaking curfew, the works. And that changed it all because when everybody was against him spreading his wings and being more of an adult, I stood by him. I always wanted to be like my brother Ty, but not in the sense of him being a troublemaker, but more in the sense of being so strong, and so bold. You see, my brother never took shit from anybody. Not teachers, principles, and more importantly… not my mom. He did what he felt as though was gonna make him happy, regardless of what anybody thought or said. I always admired that about him.

             Anyways, so during that part of his life is when he recognized that I was no longer his baby sister oblivious to the world, but I was his little sister who knew more than he thought. I was his little sister who he grew fond of and could tell anything to. I was not only his little sister anymore. I was his best friend.

            Fast forward a little and he’s out of high school, as Wiz Khalifa would say, he was living “Young, Wild & Free”. Everything was good until that late night he was looking down the barrow of a loaded gun, all because of his graduation gift; his new HTC phone. After that, he was constantly targeted on the streets and finally, my mom and him decided that enough is enough. Soon after that he joined the United States Army. Crazy thing about it is, us being as close as we are by this point, he didn’t even tell me. By the time it was too late for me to give my input, my mom told me. Papers were signed already and everything. I don’t remember much about that day but crying and my mom saying, “We felt as though we would rather him die a hero, oppose to him dying in the streets”…


-This piece isn't very creative in my eyes, but it definitely shows my growth. It took a lot for me to finish this piece with it being such a touchy subject, and my problem with finishing things. Actually to be quite honest, this isn't what I had in mind when I thought of this piece as being "finished". Also I would like to think that since this is such a real, honest story... its pretty engaging because it gives an insight on something I personally struggle with on a daily basis. 

A great piece that caught my eye..

Moments
If I could live my life over again,
in the next one I would try to make more mistakes.
I wouldn't try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I would be sillier than I've been,
In fact, I would take very few things seriously.
I would be less fastidious.
I would take more risks,
I would go on more trips,
I would contemplate more sunsets,
I would climb more mountains,
I would swim more rivers.
I would go to more places where I have never been,
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans,
I would have more real problems and fewer imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived every minute 
of his life sensibly and productively; 
of course I had moments of happiness.
But if I could go back I would try
to have only good moments.
Because if you don't already know it, 
this is what life is made of, only of moments, 
Don't let the present moment slip away.
I was one of those who never 
went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot water bottle,
an umbrella and a parachute;
If I could live my life over again, I would travel lighter.
If I could live again I would start going barefoot 
at the beginning of spring 
and I would stay barefoot until the end of fall. 
I would go on more mery-go-round rides,
I would contemplate more sunrises,
and I would play with more children,
if my life were ahead of me once again.
But, now you see, I am 85 years old and I know that I am dying.




*author is unknown*

Spoiled Rotten ..

Whenever he mentions Paris, I think of where I came from. The nights my stomach growled so loud the city stopped to say, "Damn... What the hell was that...?" The days I sat at the lunch table with all the other kids, and had to lie and say, "I forgot my lunch at home again" just because it sounded a lot better than, "My parents can't afford to feed me three times a day... I'm lucky if I even eat once." Paris, huh? Isn't that funny ...
Slimey, three week old baked chicken and flat soda... Sounds gross, but compared to spoiled milk in stale Cheerios , that was my favorite meal. I never had the option of freshly cooked meals of my choosing. In my eyes, only royalty did... And me? Well in the story of the Prince and The Paulper, I was the Paulper. I grew up in a very low class house. Birthdays were just regular days, and Christmas didn't exist. I've never even had an actual Christmas tree. Well except for that one year my mom dated that "child doctor" which was just his excuse for raping little kids. Yup, you read right, about a year into them dating, the cops showed up at my door step, kicked in our already weak door, and left with him in cuffs. Isn't it ironic how he gave me a childhood that one year with the money he got for taking the childhood of others completely..? Crazy shit to think about right? Well after that, things just went completely downhill for me and my mom. Not only were we broke as hell, but my mom bounced from one bad guy to the next. There was Michael the musician, who was a druggy/ drunk. Then there was Bill the boxer, who beat the shit out of my mom on a daily. Next was Steven the scammer, who took us for everything we had (which wasn't much from the jump) and finally, my personal favorite: "Too Friendly" Tom, who couldn't keep his damn hands to himself. It was a daily ritual for him to come into my room in the wee hours of the night... His night wasn't complete without it. Oh and the nights that he was too drunk or high, or both to handle his "business", he blamed me and I got it twice as bad the next night. Yup, so him being a drug addict was totally my fault.
Rotten eggs scrambled, put on molded bread, accompanied by "blue cheese" which wasn't exacty blue cheese when we first got it... This was breakfast, if I was lucky that is. Now a days, I have five course breakfasts and in bed if that's how I want it! So much has changed since I've met the love of my life. Nobody thought it would last. Especially not my witch of a mother. I guess she was just being a hater being though she never really had a real relationship with a man. You know, the type of relationship where she didn't get beat and disrespected on a daily and he actually loved her. Yup, a hater. That is the word that describes my mom.
Anyways, back to something that actually matters... Paris. Whenever he mentions Paris, I still get chill bumps. The lights, the language, the city of love. Exactly where him and I belong. He has a beautiful townhouse right by the Eiffel Tower. It's practically close enough to touch. That's where we spend our night out there. Dinner on the second story of the Eiffel Tower then a night on the town... Hmm... Paris... (: