My family. My heart. My souls. My reasons. My goals. The seeds I’ve sown that have grown into gold. These people have made me the wealthiest woman in the world. And I’ve found no greater joy than their existence.

My friends. My crew. My belly laughs. My safety net. My back. My childhood memories. My Tiffer. My Aim-Dog. My Jack. The women who made me. The women who hold me upright when I can’t carry the weight of my own bones. The women who have me never feel alone. Dub town forever.

My home. My world. My sanctuary. My safe harbor. My castle. My cloud. My oasis. My proud. I get to play house every day forever and it never gets old. These walls will one day be the story my life has told.

My writing. My pen. My legacy. My double speak. My oxymorons. My rhymes. My nickels. My dimes. My therapist. My song. This list is too long. Writing is the breath that breathes my sigh of relief. I uncover my shame, my joy, my fears, my beef. These thoughts are seeds, this pen is the spade. You finding meaning in their message is the sun and our connecting souls are the rain.

Myself. My head. My heart. My wings. My false starts. My good. My bad. My sass. My rad. I’m fickle, I’m funny. I’m wise. I’m honey. I’m fire. I’m rain. I’m windy. I’m cocaine. I’m strong. I’m soft. And everything in between. I’m gifted, I’m beautiful and I dance with the unseen.