Not Gonna Yie...I Be Lying.

I need to get some shit off my chest.

Y’all I done typed and retyped the start of this over and over again because I’m scared but I think I just need to Spit It Out!

I’m a liar. My whole life I been lying to myself and everyone around me and it’s genuinely causing an identity crisis in me like, Beyonce??? Who do I think I am? Why would I know the answer to that when I been swirling in untruths for so much of my existence? My pre-guess is inadequacy issues, make your bets now. I need to figure this out and y’all coming with me.

The worst part is sometimes it just be regular old bold faced fibs I’m out here telling. Swear I’m not a monster, they’ve always felt like they were purposeful in the moment. It’s lies to make the people around me more comfortable. It’s lies to get what I want 😬. It’s lies to make me less afraid of what’s sitting in front of me. Lies that niggas jamming their fingers into me like they tryna scratch the eye of God feels good. Lies that I’m not that bitch fr (want an emoji that mixes 😛+🥲). And I’m SICK OF IT!

I’ve found myself asking “damn shorty why you cain’t just be honest?” I’m tired of relating to SZA. Instead of being all self deprecating and letting that question hang in the air I’m gonna answer it. The first step is recognition, no? I’m of the personal belief that understanding where your tendencies come from is a necessary evil. I have no desire to pick myself apart but in the spirit of honesty, I want to look at the hard to reach spots, so I’m putting my stretchy clothes on and getting my glasses.

Here we go y’all *GULP*. I’m bout to divulge some of my most haunting lies dating back to elementary school. The fact I can remember the details from these events is uhhhh telling for sure. Alright I’m stalling now, put on your seat belt cause this ride gone be bumpy.

The Hair Bead 😣

The incident was probably around first grade which means I was seven so y’all can’t judge me…say promise🎤. We were outside for recess when me and my friends stumbled across a gorgeous shimmering delicacy. Think this may be the first part of the lie I’m telling myself, that shit was a beauty supply bead laying in the mulch. Somebody child was acting up and lost a bead on the playground.

I remember looking at my friend who saw the bead first just as she was about to put it in her pocket. “Oh you thought it was gone be that easy to hoard precious treasures like this for yourself,” I thought. I knew I wanted that bead and that little bitch was not bout to stop me from having it thank you very much. So I closed my eyes and got into character.

I winced, a single tear came down my left cheek before I let loose into a soft sob. I knew hysterics would be too much for what I was getting at. And then I looked up and said- before I get into the next part, I’m issuing a reminder that I was SEVEN. Okay back to it. I looked up with glossy childish eyes and said with a youthful quiver, “I’ve never had a bead before. My parents are too poor to afford beads so they tell me I can’t have any.”

Y’all I went to private school…THOSE FOOLS!

I knew damn well my momma could go to any one of the 5 beauty supplies between my house and the school to get me some beads. This definitely when I learned the power of emotional manipulation, excuse me MY power to emotionally manipulate. And lemme tell ya, that would be a theme to come throughout my life. If I wanted something, I knew just the act to put on to get it. OOPS! Tricked ya! But no longer. Holding this has kept me in a space that begs me to control. I want to be genuine, I want to be told no (Imma regret saying that later), I want to connect to people through raw vulnerability instead of manufactured feelings.

As I release this: A toast *clink* and a taste for the ancestors to not letting my desires bulldoze everyone else’s with my absolutely brilliant acting skills. My wants are not more important than the feelings of other people and I hereby declare my intention to try (be patient with me) acquiring my desires through openness. Ashe, or whatever else they be saying.

The Bald Spot ✨

To most, this title will have no significance, but to my mother and sisters (God I hope they don’t read this), your patience has paid off and I am unveiling this virgin bride a.k.a. THE TRUTH OF MY BALD SPOT.

One calm day in fifth grade, we’re talking prime preteen, forcing a training bra, horny for Justin Timberlake years, my mother caught me lacking. My usual thick cotton hairline sweat catcher had slipped an inch or two from its intended position and ✨ding✨ it shone. Bright like the jewels on Meg Thee Stallions new grill. My bald spot was revealed just above the top of my left ear. That’s when my mom hit me with the “Carmen, what is this?” And in my silence I could tell she was gettin scared, askin “who did this? Was it someone else? Is someone bullying you?” Mind you, I’m a hefty 5 foot 10 inches and I stopped growing in the 7th grade. They knew good and well my big body ass wasn’t getting bullied.

The thing is she created the perfect out for me. Is it really lying if you just agree with someone else’s projections onto you? So I let her believe one of them other little bad kids had cut my hair during reading hour and I didn’t notice. Only issue here was just how bald and perfectly circular the hit job was. It genuinely looked like someone took a level 0 razor blade to my head and skinned me. Even though she was the one out here blaming everybody else kids, her and my sisters would continue to grill me bout this joint for the next idk REST OF MY FUCKIN LIFE!!! And that’s what made me not want to tell them what happened. While it might have been embarrassment initially, I honestly just kept this secret out of spite for my own personal space, like damn I know I’m cute but hop off my dick and let me live.

That being said…I am ready to reveal the truth y’all. Nah I’m actualky shakinmg in ny armchjair rifghjt now, I’m so scared.

I thought I had side burns, but I ain’t realize I was cutting the wrong place and used baby safety scissors to give myself a permanent bald spot. I had just been crying about feeling ugly in my room so I tried to make myself feel better and that’s what I got. Awww I miss puberty, this is actually very cinematic. I live for the drama and shit change.

Hallelujah the truth will set you free, YES LORD! This the first time I’m coming clean about this, that’s 14 years of weight lifted off my shoulders. PRAISE HIM! I lied initially because I KNEW I had went and screwed my hair up and was not bout to be clowned by them old ladies (my sisters and mom). No more!

As I release this: A toast *clink* and a taste for the ancestors to owning my actions in states of high emotion even if they’re borderline manic. To not keeping secrets out of spite for personal emotional space and instead communicating clearly with the people who I love and love me dearly. Goddamn that feel good like an orgasm in the midday sun, *with a moan* I AM FREE.

That Time I Faked A Pregnancy And Abortion

On second thought, this deserves it’s own dedicated post. All you need to know is a nigga was playing in my face. You thought I was gone leave you unscathed when you’re ruining every waking moment of my life?! No Ma’am. You will feel this wrath. Every crazy ex girlfriend has an even crazier ex-mascfriend (yup, studs and masc non-binary people not safe either) behind their actions. No Ragrets bb. 💋

Coming soon though. :p

I Did Not Have a Home Studio, I Never Attended Howard University, And Morgan Freeman Is Not My Uncle

I genuinely wish y’all could understand the weight of guilt shedding from me writing this down and putting it out into the ether. My spine is straighter and the edges of my mouth are turning to the heavens. Lowkey hope I’m securing my spot up there and this ain’t for nothing. 💀

This one is more about a category of lie I tell than any specific one. These are all white lies I have told people I just met to seem…well, cooler I guess. This is such a lame-o loser wanna be move from me, but please give me some grace. It is hard finding value in yourself as a young black girl who is seen as accessory to the rest of the world. I never saw myself at the center of anything I was doing, only the odd one out. On top of that, I went to an elementary-middle school where my graduating class was fucking 13 kids. Oh brother, this kid needs more socializing. When I was thrown into the deep end of public school and then moved a 13 hour drive away two years into it, I was desperate to create relationships with people. I thought the way to do this was by having that one ambiguous characteristic, “coolness”. I did a million and one interesting things as a kid. My arsenal of fun facts runs so mfing deep, but because I never cared about these activities, I didn’t think anyone else would. I hadn’t learned that I had the perfect measurements to cook up who I was and anything extra would ruin my recipe.

I would tell these lies in passing and very quickly realize they had to become canon. They were now a part of who I was. I never faltered, I made sure to place that shit in my stories at the exact right moments for consistency’s sake. No one tells you that it gets to you. You start to think about your lies when literally no one gives a fuck and now you’re creating whole characters and plot lines about playing on your high school lacrosse team when in reality you did it a couple times in summer camp. In this way white lies are a lot like Substack, seems like a harmless cute activity and now it’s consuming all your brain space.

It makes me so sad to think about all the years I never thought me as me was enough to spark interest in other people like I’m not the coolest, funniest, hottest, strongest, smartest, hardest bitch out here. Like Carma what’s good?!?! You all that and a bag of cool ranch Doritos! Live in that! Breathe in appreciation of self, hold, breathe out projected false narratives of who you “should be”, hold. Repeat.

To be clear, this does not apply to the things I am manifesting. I have to believe they’re mine for them to come to me. Don’t questions me on this one thnx!

As I release this: A toast *clink* and a taste for the ancestors to knowing I’m worth praising to new people I meet. To not enjoying me as I am, as I have been, as I will be in entire honesty. I’m genuinely sorry to anyone I have affected with a lie, I hope you can accept this apology and hold my hand moving into an adventure in thinking I am substantial.

LMAO! Not y’all witnessing my personal rebirth into truth! And if there is any truth I wish to believe, it is that me showing up into the world honestly will get a roaring applause from those who are listening.

Sincerely,

💋Carma💋

---

Thank you so much for reading this article.  I’d love to know what your journey with the truth has been.

Does it come easily?
Were you a bad ass lying kid like me?
Is it still something you struggle with?

We need to be more vulnerable with ourselves so we can connect with others and this is my attempt.

Here are a few other pieces that explore vulnerability. Thnx bb *forehead kiss* *left cheek kiss* *right cheek kiss*