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My Confession:The Transitions of a Woman
 
Waking up.Life is Crazy. Most of us come to this conclusion at sometime in our twenties. It is crazy!The ups, the downs. Finding who you are and where you want to go is made almostimpossible with life’s rollercoaster ride. But in all its movement, there are basics that weall abide to. We all subscribe to the game of basic needs, wants and desires. There is asingle need that encompasses all the basics and every conscious soul craves its beauty – its love. That’s it. In the end of your day love is all that matters. How you love yourself,how others love you and how you love others. Its survival like tendencies draw us to it inall its extremes. Its nourishing satisfaction is more powerful than any drug or obsession.We use it to complete and destroy and yet are almost oblivious to its control over our lives. “It’s Love”. Jill Scott said it best. Do you feel its pull in your day? How about asyou read these lines? You do if you are human. I have my entire existence. I’m in mytwenties now and I am finding that life is crazy. In memory, I was driven to close insanity by the power of love. I write this to tell others of my pleasures and pains for a feeling of oneness. To connect to and with each reader in the most personal matter to show them – It’s LOVE!Since We all agree now that its love, I want to say that I appreciate and am writing to alllevels of experience. This is just my story. We must realize that we all go through the upsand downs. Our lives are much more alike than different. Many times we can learn a lotabout ourselves through the lives of others. It’s love,…and this is my confession…
 
Chapter 1 – FriendsI was born in San Diego California in 1983. My mother, a young white woman with long black hair, a mesmerizing face and a deep burn for love. My father, a young black manwith love first on his mind, at all times and in all aspects. They met, fell in love and this ishow the story goes.I guess my 1
st
memories are of my friends. I had a girlfriend named ShaSha. I remember  playing with “clackers” with ShaSha out in front of our apartment complex. I remember hanging out in her room and yelling to the boys across the street. They would chase us allday. They were really chasing ShaSha. She was at least 8. I was 4. She already had breasts. We were tight. I hope she’s well. Fast forward.We move to a new neighborhood. I am getting ready to go to kindergarten. We are livingin a large apartment complex with a lot of kids. I am excited but shy. A young girl comesup to me in the courtyard one day. She offers me some strawberries. I hated strawberriesat the time so I yelled “NO” and ran away. We became best friends after that. We weretwo peas in a pod. I remember how good it felt to have her. She was my best friend. It feltso good to be that special to someone and to have a “best friend”. I craved her love andthe love her family portrayed. We grew up very differently and I yearned to be a part of her family. I was unconsciously dependent on our relationship for years. It substituted for so much of the love that I began searching for in the first quarter of my life. Our friendship was so perfect. We had a few arguments, but while others were meeting new people and exchanging best friends every month or so, we spent years getting to know
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