An Open Letter to You
This will be an extremely insightful letter.
I’m sick of your shit. I figured you might be as well. Only one month remains in the year of our sweet Lord and Savior, 2016. You can be ashy and wait until December 31st at 11:59 to decide to be more than a Twitter honey; or you can be like the greats (read Solange, Beyoncé, & Guwop) and make the most of the time you have. In an attempt to help us lessen our ain’t-shit-ness and increase our vibrations I have compiled a list of shit we need to start or stop to kick off the year of our most gracious, ally of creeps everywhere, sweet Lord and Savior, 2017. Don’t @ me. This will be therapeutic for all involved.
So, here we go:
Really, shoot your shot.
2016 year is ending, the leaves are changing, and the colder it gets the less chance you have of securing a quality bae. I’m sick of you and your subtweets. Do you really think they’re waiting on you to send the DM, the text, the snap, or hell, the e-mail? No sir. No ma’am. Folks outchea living. I know, I know. What if she curves me? What if he only likes Instagram chicks that sell flat tummy tea and promotes Kylie Jenner’s lip gloss line?
Sir, you are a young, fly gentleman. You deserve a baddie. Woman, you are a magical goddess. You deserve a daddy bae, also and as well. Potential bae would be privileged to have you slow body roll into their DMs like the blue power ranger. Stop romanticizing these relationship ideals on your timeline and claim your bae. And you’d better do it before somebody else is cuddling with them while football is on, eating extra wet wings, and playing with her booty or his beard.
Favor AIN’T fair and victory loves preparation (I stole that from a movie).
This goes for non-romantic life goals, as well. It’s time to channel your inner Steph, KD, or LeBron in every area of your life. Quit the job, ask for the raise, move to a new city, self-publish the book, hell, write the book, go back to school, quit school---just do it already.
Pause for cliché.
Everything you need to do what you’ve been waiting to do is already in you. The people you need are already connected to you. Time is not a factor because the silver lining is you have more adult years in front of you than behind you.
Quit being ashy and shoot your shot.
Really, mind your business.
I can’t tell you how many times a day I read some kind of post about business needing to be minded. “Mind your business. Bless up.” “Minding my business. Bless up.” “Minding your father’s business. Bless up.” Okay, I said that last one.
*Inserts blank stare, scrolls further down timeline, witnesses the same people minding someone else’s business or spilling unfiltered tea*
If we’re honest, I think we can each admit we’ve had way too much extra time on our hands in 2016. Hell, I’ve even found time to write you this letter. Also, I am clearly minding YOUR business right now. So, there’s that.
Either way, it’s time. It’s time for us to revert our attention to our own shit. We got a lot of it and quite frankly, if we spent more time actually sifting through our own shit I probably wouldn’t have felt compelled to write this four page letter.
I really just want us all to do better. I believe that begins with minimizing the lies we tell ourselves. You don’t have time to be great because you’re too busy trying to see if other people are being great. Probably could’ve been great years ago but instead, you keep peeking at other people’s shit, taking samples of other folk’s tea, being extra lame.
Here’s your chance. You’ve got a whole month to practice. Instead of stealing tea and distributing it like a Lipton’s account rep, how about you switch to water for a while.
Hydrate and really, mind your business.
Really, invest in yourself and create some dope shit.
You’ve been sitting on dope ass ideas far too long while the people around you keep prospering off wack shit. Your homeboy is selling wack ass beats on his IG. Your baby mother out here installing wack ass frontals. Your cousin just opened a wack ass Etsy shop. Your pops is killing the fantasy league with his wack ass team. But you; you’re sitting on something epic, incredible, fucking fantastic because, well, I don’t know. You tell me.
Don’t worry. I got time.
Your entire tribe is chasing their dreams and you’re so busy waiting on the right time, the right website, the right follower, the right introduction, that you are missing God telling you to stop being lame. Record it, write it, launch it, broadcast it, tweet it, etc.
If it’s in you then I can almost guarantee God intended to use it. It’s time to level up. I realize that sharing something you’ve created can be scary. Shit, I have minor panic attacks every time I submit a piece to Opus. Like, what if y’all don’t like my voice? Then, I remember, as much as I would like to think I create shit for other people, I create shit for me. Maybe, this letter is to me more than it is to you because there are things I still need to create, there are stories I still need to tell, and there are daddy baes I still need to meet.
Let’s make a deal.
I’ll work on meeting daddy baes if you promise to push back against wack shit and plan, create, and share some dope shit as we move into 2017. You been operating as an afterthought for far too long. Numerologists are saying 2016 is the year for cycles to end. That means 2017 is about manifestation, glow ups, and deposits. You deserve.
So, my guy---really---go forth, create some shit, and prosper.
Really, keep your fucks.
So many of us pride ourselves on how many fucks we don’t give. Except, we do, indeed---give fucks.
Let me explain.
We’ve plugged into the fantasy that is the reality of the lives of others’ on Twitter. We have neglected our own inner voices. It’s cool as entertainment but at what point are we going to draw the line of influence? For most of us, adaptation is so deeply embedded in our nature that we don’t even realize we’ve shape shifted until one of our real friends hits us with the, “Whose mans is this?” I know, you don’t switch up. You keep it 100. You ain’t never been a follower. Your father ain’t raise no mimicking…
Well, while you’re on social media pretending to be an individual, the people you’re attempting to impress for followers and retweets are logging off long enough to create tangible legacies. Lifestyles that rarely look like the shit they’re feeding you on the timeline. You don’t have to agree. I know a lot of your favorites in real life.
For them, this shit really is JUST SOCIAL MEDIA.
Don’t sweat it, kid. There’s still time for you to care as little as they do. Trust me, you can do anything for a little while. There’s a deeper calling on your life. One that equates to more than being what the tweet with the highest amounts of retweets is telling you to be. You can love that unemployed wo/man asleep on your couch. You can date that boring ‘pick me’ and thrive. You can split the rent… or not. You can even be faithful to the one person you claim to genuinely care about but the timeline doesn’t know. Shit, who knew?
You can literally, keep your fucks and win. Seriously, you can.
Really, trust God.
Okay, timeline saints, witches, prophets, evangelists, ministers, numerologists, rock worshippers, priests, reverends, empaths, healers, bishops, deacons, and mothers; you’re up. I’m not sure how many people actually read your tweets. In fact, I’m not sure if you even read your tweets. I am sure that we, as a unit, have failed our audience. I’m going to make this quick. This “feel good” ministry we’ve been promoting has to stay in 2016. We have set the people up for failure.
Folks out here sitting under moons, speaking to the Holy Spirit, while sitting on a prayer call thinking life is just going to magically be well. It just doesn’t work like that. It’s not about the number of candles you burn, mantras you repeat, or prayers you send up. It’s about the faith that drives you.
If you light your candles on Monday believing God, the universe is going to release, shift, and manifest something great in your life; how dare you turn around on Tuesday throw out your candles and start rubbing rocks together!? It was one day. One. Day.
Ole flip-flopping ass.
At the very core of whatever it is you practice is faith. Faith in what you cannot see. Faith in what you’re hoping for. Faith in what God, the universe can do. It doesn’t always happen overnight. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. You may have to do some work, real work (I realize that’s a foreign concept for this generation of scammers.) before it all comes together. Either way. You have to trust that God, the universe is an unchanging being, a continuous cycle, too vast to understand. Life unfolds, as it should, whether it is filled with joy or pain, in order to align you with your destiny.
You have to be willing to trust God, the universe, and the process. Stop switching up. The universe is probably confused because it can’t tell whether to meet you by your sage or at the altar. Laugh. Issa joke. Sort of.
Now, that I’ve said all that, please, allow me to close with this: You the best. You can be everything or nothing. Whatever you decide be intentional about it. 2016 has been rough for all of us. 2017 is about to be lit as the entire fuck. Honestly. Truly.
I’ve been talking to God and I think if we can all manage to be a little less trash we gone be alright.
P.S. This letter long as hell. Thanks for reading.
Family, I love y’all.