Beyoncé grew up in the rough streets of third ward Texas with little to no support or resources. She quickly had to learn how to survive on her own, hustle and provide for not only herself but her little sister.
She soon owned a night club in Texas...
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Marissa locked herself in her room ignoring everyone's texts and calls. She patiently waited until her family left the house to roam about the house freely. Lighting her hookah and sitting on the couch. Being lovesick, missing Bey, and dealing with the separation took a heavy toll on her. She felt safer when she was isolated. As she blew "O's" of smoke her body began to feel at ease, mixing weed with the shisha to self-medicate did the trick for her. She resided in the moment, holding back tears and letting her body enjoy the trip.
Her big curls lightly swayed under the ceiling fan, she took a deep breath and pulled from the hookah. "Shit... I can't do this," she murmured.
She searched through her contacts trying to find Bey's number and give her a call but she was too scared. Knowing Beyoncé had by now realized that She went to the tabloids and sold their story for some money. Knowing she betrayed the one person she loved the most for a quick check. The prenup didn't work in her favor, She came with nothing and was going to leave with just the same. Her fear of having to survive on her own fueled her to make a stupid decision that she wished she could take back.
"Should I call... I want to tell her I'm sorry. nothing more." Marissa said softly to herself.
She stared at Bey's name on her phone screen, her finger hovering over the "call" button. The memories of their time together flooded her mind - the laughter, the late-night conversations, the shared dreams. She never thought she would be the one to cause such heartbreak.
But Marissa knew deep down that calling Beyoncé wouldn't fix things. It wouldn't erase the hurt she had caused or mend the trust that was broken. It was a selfish act, borne out of desperation and fear.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached a decision. Slowly, she tapped the "delete contact" button. It was time to let go, to accept the consequences of her actions, and face the future alone.
Marissa knew she had to find a way to make amends with herself, to find the strength within her to rebuild her life. She took one last puff from the hookah, releasing the smoke into the air as if releasing her pain. She stood up, finding solace in the fact that she could still move forward, that she could still change her narrative.
With each step she took towards the door, the weight on her shoulders lifted slightly. Marissa was no longer defined by her mistakes, by the choices she had made. She was determined to rise above it all and create a new path for herself.
As she walked out of her room, the once suffocating silence of the house became a canvas for her future. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was ready to face the challenges head-on.
Marissa unlocked her phone and dialed a different number - the number of a therapist she had been referred to. It was time for her to seek professional help, work through the pain, and heal the wounds she had inflicted upon herself.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the call button. This was the first step towards a new beginning, towards a life where she could learn to love herself again. And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to forgive herself too.
