Her Mind. Her Funk. Her Story.

A comment on “Mind and funk” from iCon of Diasporadical, a poignant prose that tells the story of one of the 844,000 who give in to the romance with death.

There’s once lived a lovely lady in the state of New York; Queens to be precise-ish. Brilliant wordsmith and literary mind. She was also blessed with the most sublime of features and a body that elicited nothing but sinful thoughts in the gutters of men’s minds. I had had a crush on her and would walk by her building on my way to the train home from work hoping to catch a glimpse of her smile and maybe a wave too; fuel for my dreams.

Then one day, my balls dropped, and I mustered up the courage and audacity to walk up to her floor, bang on her door and say “Look woman; this is what’s going to happen. I will buy you coffee this evening and you shall drink it and entertain my small talk and midget humor. That is all. Dress snazzy.”
I got to the door and barely tapped it when it opened itself. “Aha! I thought. This is a sign.” but before I could proceed on one of my power-trip self-gratifying solliloquies, I noticed the lady in question passed out by the bathroom floor, foaming at the mouth.

A 911 call, ambulance ride and hospital night later, I found out that she’d had the severest of depressions and had tried to bottle it in and act normal. But the pressure of her family telling her she was sulking for no reason, her friends being jealous of her beauty(mind and other) and her job, her neglectful boyfriends and the ever intimidated passers by who never said anything more than hi, she decided the world was better without her. I tried talking to her, even convinced her to go for professional help a few months later. I moved out of NY to ATL but still swung by to visit and check on her. It was clear that she was struggling without a support system. And the medication did little to help.

3 years and 3 suicide attempts later, she finally made it to Walker Funeral Home.

And her family sat there crying wishing they would’ve listened.

Everybody is worth worlds or more.
Don’t listen to the funk. Well, not that funk at least.

Stay up Loco.