Always remember the acronym for "FEAR" can mean one of two things: Fuck Everything And Run or Face Everything And Recover.
Cupcake BrownMy grandmother say you lay down with dogs you get up with fleas. A hard head makes a soft behind. Life is like a box of chocolates you never know what you're going to get.
Cupcake BrownYou do the foot work, and leave the results up to God.
Cupcake BrownTags: inspirational
Oprah got her money," she snapped. "You trying to get YOURS! No, turn off that fuckin' TV and get to studying!
Cupcake BrownTags: inspirational
Instead of asking WHY you had to do it, how about just thanking Him for safely bringing you THROUGH it.
Cupcake BrownTags: inspirational
It's okay to be afraid. It's not okay to let the fear STOP you.
Cupcake BrownTags: inspirational
She talked about wanting to be a part of something, wanting to be desired, to be 'special', craving to be loved. She talked about experiencing the kind of loneliness so immense it could swallow you up. She called it 'loneliness that crowds couldn't cure'.
Cupcake BrownTags: love acceptance loneliness cupcake-brown
Oh, get off the cross!” V shouted when I shared my thoughts with her on the phone. “We need the wood!
Cupcake BrownI'd learned not to put a question mark where God put a period.
Cupcake BrownI didn’t know much about God, ’cept that if you pissed Him off, He’d getcha one day. My momma knew God—she was raised a Methodist. In fact, her daddy was a Methodist preacher. Still, Momma said she wanted more from God, so for the past couple of years she’d been searching for more. I got to go with her on some of those searches. First, we tried the Jehovah’s Witnesses. They were cool, till I learned they didn’t celebrate Christmas. God or no God, I wasn’t giving up Christmas! Then we tried the Muslims (or the “Black Muslims,” as Momma called them). I didn’t like them because when we got to their church (which they called a mosque), they made us change our clothes and put on some of their clothes: floor-length dresses and material to wrap our heads in so our hair wouldn’t show. And they searched us too, which pissed me off. But Momma seemed to understand; she said it was because white folks thought the Muslims were militant, so white folks was always messing with ’em—you know, harassing them, arresting them, threatening them. Momma said the Muslims had to be careful so that’s why they were searching folks. uring Momma’s God search, we tried a few other religions. I never really did care one way or the other. I never really seriously thought about God because, no matter what the religion, they all wanted you to be perfect. And I knew I was far from perfect. So I figured God wouldn’t wanna mess with me. I don’t know which religion Momma finally decided on. Maybe she realized she didn’t need a particular religion to know and love God or for God to know and love her. Whatever she decided, she also decided that she wasn’t going to choose for me. She wanted to wait until I was old enough and then let me decide my religion.
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