I'm sending roses out the blue because I need you to know I believe in you. Gold stars don't do what they used to do, but there's a few I need to super glue. To the ones who make the world worth going through, I don't know what you're going through, but I'm sorry for all the times I played peek-a-boo. Real people need you.
I wish I had a snickers handy for moments where a piece of candy could keep grown folks from being angry. It's scary. The biggest givers deal with most of the bad tempers, and the voice of reason often gets thanks in whispers.
So for all those investing in queens when they prefer to be hoes and building up kings when they're clearly your foes, I know there isn't much incentive to go high around low-life's recording life lows, but you make all the difference... and really it shows.
God sees it. I tell all my heroes they'll be rewarded in heaven, but I'm often met with the blankest expressions... visible exhaustion with flashes of depression... overtime shifts and a lot of second-guessing. Positive remodels see plenty of unemployment because we root for the bad guys out of pure enjoyment. We love false advertising, but who can explain it? When the right thing looks faded, who wants to obtain it?
What's the life expectancy of kids aspiring to be like Nipsey, when community parasites live well past fifty? Can I be the first to say it's iffy? No doubt it's full of doubt, and I'll probably be the last to figure it out. I often stare in the mirror thinking "things will pan out," practicing how to keep cool when all my fans fan out.
I just found out my favorite poet most likely committed suicide. If he was one of our strongest minds, who can we get behind? I used to watch Fievel go West but now it's the New York Times, so who will survive in the age of Columbines?
You are so very important... appreciated... and loved.
I can't say it enough to the special kind of special and kind people. I'm praying for pure sugar canes who work with artificial sweeteners. We are not Equal, that's the reason they're cheaper.
I told God I don't want a genie but wouldn't mind a Gina, someone to say "You Go Boy" when I get on my FIFA.
More goals.
More wins.
More extra time.
He said, "you'll do just fine if you find the purpose behind the grind," so I'm sharing a paraphrased word from the one who gave sight to the blind.
This year tell all the ingrates that you've already got the hint. You weren't desperate, you were heaven-sent.