In ways, I reconcile this feeling with the rupture in the relationship between my father and I. Realistically, he probably felt like he didn’t want me at times. I was a HUGE responsibility. I was much more than he could afford. And we didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye. (He thought my singing and cleaning the dishes was gay. I thought food in the sink was disgusting, and that I was the next John Legend, or maybe Frank Ocean, or maybe even Maxwell.)

That said, I don’t give up on Cash. We manifested this shit. My love and will for our future outweighs any low-vibrational, soul-depreciating, irreversible  thoughts. 

I have more tools than my dad did. 

Cash is just a dog. 

My mom is a fucking rockstar. 

7:32 AM - Next Morning

(Sigh)

Speaking of manifesting shit… yeah, yeah he did.