We all have visions for ourselves.
We all see who we are and who we want to be, and how to get there. Some of us fight for what it is we want and some of us are too scared to try. When you’re a fighter, and you’re living the Bold Bitch lifestyle to achieve whatever it is you’ve been working for, sometimes it’s easy to fall into the trap. The trap of feeling like you’ve made it. When really, you haven’t made shit, honey.
When you have spent years feeling stuck and vying for inspiration, you receive hype off of your own successes. It’s when you’re on a winning streak that you begin to realize that you are worthy, you do have the talent, and you ARE doing something with your life. But be warned, dear; for feeling too high will only bring you down lower than when you started.
For me, the trick to keeping yourself focused on what you want, is to feel a little bit like a hot mess. It sounds strange but it’s true. I’ve always admired the underdog, the star who belongs in the spotlight more than half of the bitches who get all that shine. But underdogs have to work for it, they have to work hard, and don’t always know just how special they really are.
To be a hot mess amidst a driven life is to always be willing to get kicked in the face and continuing to keep your eyes focused on the prize. You have to want to get knocked down so you can become greater than you were before. You have to force yourself to be good, when it’s so easy to be a shady bitch in the name of success.
When I moved to New York, I thought I would begin snatching weaves as soon as I got the key to my first apartment. But that was a naive and stupid thing to think. Does moving to a great city instantly make you great? Nah, man. It just makes you broke. I didn’t understand why I felt so strange, I assumed my streak of happy coincidences and lucky circumstances would continue on and only become happier and luckier. But, no. It was the beginning to a clean slate. It was a fresh start after a year of working my ass off…to do it all over again.
It wasn’t the dream that was killed, it was the whole perception of it all. I ended the Bold Bitch Diaries because I thought I was done with that chapter of my life. But as it turns out, it had only just begun.