I am home. Was discharged this morning. And oh, does it feel good to be back in my things. My kanga. And my man. I am woman. Hear me roar. Across the expanse of the African wilderness. I am the Oprah of podcasting. The queen of the written word. The boss of the comic stage (in the making).
I’m sitting here listening to Sam Cooke. The music just speaks to my soul. As I look back at my stay in the “Wellness Clinic”, it was one of the most introspective things I have ever done. The extrovert came out and the shy, insecure Candice skulked in a corner. I am woman. Hear me roar.
I believe in godincidences. Because the way the Great I Am, directed my path and the people He placed along the way. Well, the mind boggles. And like I said to one of my besties, Forward Ever, Backwards Never! Just to tie up some lose ends.
The boxer tried to pull a fast one on all of us. He was threatening to put things in people’s drinks and generally stirring up the kaka with a hot spoon. He dared. Just dared. Imagine. But he dared to frighten me on some: “I don’t like what you said about me in the canteen earlier.”
At the time I was having a pity party because I believed monkey brain when it told me that #babysesame has forgotten about me. So I said, sharply, at him, I said: “I’m busy here.” And the good lad got up and left me alone. Real crazies don’t do that.
I know real crazies. Vele I know you mos, is’n?!
