Dear Rowdy Boys

Dear Rowdy Boys,

Yeah, you know who you are.

The ones who never stop talking till you call on them in class.
The ones who wear their pants a little lower cause that's what the grown men on your street do.
The ones who joke around and mess with everyone until someone says something about your moms or hairline or how someone broke your ankles last weekend in the game.

Then your jokes become perfectly shot venom to their Achilles heel, just so you don't seem weaker or emotional.

News flash. We all know that hurt.

My heart has always chosen you.
You who smell like the outdoors, or your uncs' house.
You who will do or say anything to get positive attention from someone.
You who love to wipe your sweat on me and rush to tell me about your grades... or hate to tell me about the trouble you ended up getting into at school that day.
We talk about your newest crush, how siblings are super annoying, argue about who the best point guard in the game is, and dream about where we will be in the next couple of years.

My heart will never stop choosing you.
Young to old.
Years have gone by, and I've gotten tired, but
I refuse to give up on you.
Back talk. Hateful attitudes. And a lack of respect for authority.
There is a reason behind all of those things. And I'm here to listen.

Those dudes in the tinted window cars.
Those dudes who rep something you fear and respect all at the same time.
They don't listen like I do.
They will only choose you while you're of value to them.
I will always choose you, rowdy boys.

I can't be mom... even if you ask me.
I can't be your girl... that's just #protocol.
I'm not blood, but I can be family.
I will be Miss Chloe.

And sometimes that means sitting on a bus in silence why you cry over the tragic loss of a friend.
It means playing 1 on 1 while I tell you about where I'll be for the next 3 months and being honest.
It means showing up in the Ville and just walking with you so you can be heard.
Sometimes that means not yelling when I absolutely want you to know how upset your behavior makes me. Because yelling to you is an unfortunate norm.
You better believe I know your Granny, Momma, Auntie, and big brother. We're close enough to where if you act a fool, I have permission to remind you what's up!
So sit back down sir.
There will always be times when you hate me with your whole being.
There will be times you spit on me, push me away, call me things you think will hurt my feelings.
You wait for my reaction. And when you don't get one, you will hate me even more.

Until one day.
After I continue to choose you.
Day after day.
You realize who I am.
And that I love you, rowdy boys,