Warning: This story is based on the life and times of its Author. The stories depicted in this book are completely non-fiction and based on real life events. However the names of the places and the characters have been changed to protect the identities of everyone involved. All character names appearing in this work are fictitious, and any resemblance to real names, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Prologue

This is the inspirational story of a kid who struggled to find a place of belonging throughout his life. A kid who always appeared to have it all together on the outside while battling demons on the inside. Demons which would reside in him through experiences with abuse, heartbreak, violence and death. Its not the average story of the kid who sold drugs to get out of the ghetto, or died trying to feed his family. It doesn’t take place in the ghetto and it doesn’t take place in the suburbs, instead it's somewehre in-between. It’s a testament to a willpower that every one can learn to use at some point in their life. Willpower that keeps you going through the dark in search for the light and through hell in search for God. It tells about the lessons that one learns as he or she fights their way through the trials of a not so everyday life. It’s a story of determination, perseverance and ambition. The story of a kid who God let the devil have his way with, while holding his hand through the entire ride knowing some day that kid would find his way home.


“Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.”
St. Francis of Assisi

Contents

Introduction
Chapter 1 (Friends Ain’t Friends)
Chapter 2 (A Lesson In Death)
Chapter 3 (Summer Rain)
Chapter 4 (A Stitch In Time)
Chapter 5 (Meaning)
Chapter 6 (The Hood After Father)
Chapter 7 (Corruption)
Chapter 8 (Hatred)
Chapter 9 (The Decision)
Chapter 10 (Stairway To Hell)
Chapter 11 (Son Of A B****)
Chapter 12 (Love Never Lost)
Chapter 13 (Family Reunion)
Chapter 14 (Colorado Rocky)
Chapter 15 (Beginning Of The End)
Chapter 16 (Betrayal)
Chapter 17 (Art And War)
Chapter 18 (Steal A Victim)
Chapter 19 (The Devil's Door)
Chapter 20 (School Of Hard Knocks)
Chapter 21 (Life And Death)
Chapter 22 (A Shot In The Dark)
Chapter 23 (Lessons In Love)
Chapter 24 (New Focus, New York)

Introduction

Life has a funny way of teaching us things. Seems like regardless of what or who you plan to be, life is going to shape you into whom you’re supposed to be. Sometimes who you’re supposed to be is not necessarily the person you had in mind. Since a kid I was always different, different from my peers and different from those who surrounded me. I was always very analytical, observant, and somewhat hard to get along with. I was always very practical, everything I did had to make sense, and every move I made had to ensure progression. Throughout my childhood and teenage years I always hung out with people older then me. In some situations that worked out for me, while in others not so much. Either way it helped me become the person I am today. I have always been told that I am wise beyond my years, and never truly understood what people meant by that until I got older. As it turns out being mature for your age can hurt you just as much as it can help you. Sometime you find yourself wishing you could think like everyone else your age, so you can live as care free as they do. Yet I do believe my maturity and my instincts are a big part of the reason I am alive today. I believe that my mind is a gift as well as a curse. A gift because I have the ability to observe everyday activities, and turn them into conceptual pictures which deeply help people. A curse because that same mind makes it very difficult to sleep, and accept life, as well as people. I’m sure many people may believe that at twenty-five years of age, I am too young to reflect upon life and write a book. However I know different, and after reading this book and gaining an understanding as to how I got to where I am today, I am certain you will agree. Besides once we wait until we reach a certain age to reflect upon our life, many relevant moments become mere distant memories, which we can never capture again. So I figured there is no better time then the present to share my life experiences with any and everyone who is willing to listen. I pray this book will be as insightful and as inspirational to you, as some of the books I have read in the past have been to me.

Chapter One (Friends Ain’t Friends)

Growing up in New York City was fun. Like everything else in life it has its challenges, but nothing I didn’t overcome. Being that I did not stay in New York my entire youth, I felt like I missed out on a lot of opportunities. New York forces you to become a man, not only a man but an individual; a strong individual. Not to say that I didn’t become one, but it took me longer and the journey was different, but ill get more into that later. Though there were many hard times in the city, I was always unaware when those times occurred. I was blessed as a child, because I had such a strong and supportive family. My mother had me at a young age, so the odds were against us from the beginning; but with the support of our family we were able to defeat those odds quickly. My Mother is a beautiful woman, light-skinned, short hair, very well kept. Everyone in my immediate family dresses to kill and she is no exception. She’s also very passionate, intelligent, and strong. As cliché as it may sound I know I have the best mother in the world. She was incredibly good at making me believe that I had everything I could ever need, and I did. I never felt like we were without. Even in her most trying times she would always make sure there was a smile on her face whenever I was around. She did all the little things it took to keep me happy as a kid. I was a big wrestling fan, and she would always buy me the newest action figures. I used to love when she went to the video store and bought the pay-per-view events. When I was real young we lived with my Grandmother. My Grandmother is another beautiful woman, also very well kept. She doesn’t look a day over 35 and so all my friends refer to her as the diva. Most people think she’s either my Mother or my Sister when they see us together. Eventually we moved into our own small apartment on Atlantic Ave. However, even after we moved I never had to be without my grandmother because my visits were frequent. Pretty much every weekend I found myself either at my Nana’s house or my Grandmothers house. I visited my other Grandmother in Queens often as well. All of my Grandmothers are special, they each played a vital role in raising me. My Nana lived in Bedstuy, I loved going to visit her. She had the warmness about her, she was fair-skinned, with gray hair and glasses. She had a way of making me feel really loved. I could tell she loved having me around just as much as I loved being around. I had a way of getting into a lot of mischief at times when she babysat me, especially when my little cousin was around. Sometime I used to get to her, but she could never stay mad at me. Even when she would send me to my room to punish me, she would be in there a few minutes later reading me a story, or bringing me something to eat while we watched wheel of fortune. I loved my Nana, she would give anything that she had to keep me happy, and as a kid I felt that love. Unfortunately I didn’t feel that kind of love in the street.

I was a good kid for the most part. I just picked up on a few bad habits after hanging out with the wrong crowds. For whatever reason the older kids always liked me and wanted me to rock with them. That never went over to well with the kids my age. My mom and I moved an awful lot, so I found myself going to a different school almost every year. From the fourth grade all the way up until high-school I was in a different school each year. Always having to adjust to a new school was difficult. I was always the new kid on the block, and always had to make new friends. I had to get used to proving myself over and over, little did I know that would serve me well later in life. I learned fast in New York, that when you’re the new kid people are going to test you, especially when the girls like you. Well going to six different schools in seven years, you can imagine how much I was tested. Before I got into my first fight I was somewhat of a push over. I always found myself in a situation where dudes wanted to fight me, because they heard their first crush liked me, or because I beat them in basketball. Being that I never had a real crew growing up because I moved so much, I was always an easy target. However, though I may not have really wanted to fight, I knew how to make it seem like I was the toughest dude walking. Before I discovered that could defend myself, my mouth was my sharpest weapon. I always had the ability to talk my way out of anything. I knew how to make dudes think twice about stepping to me, as if they were missing something and were afraid to find out what it was. That worked for a while, until I met this grown man in a child’s body named Tyree Blackman. Tyree was tall, dark, and rough looking. He was one of those kids who seem to have grown man strength. He had veins popping out his arm and scars covering his face. Before I met Tyree, I’d been in a few arguments and shove matches, but never a real fight. I was taunted quite a lot, like the average inner city kid but I never did much about it. I was able to hold my composure through almost everything, an ability that would soon fade. Her name was Carmen, that’s who started it all. Carmen was bad! She was tall, medium build, had a caramel complexion, and every pair of sneakers you could think of. She had more style then every other third grade girl by far. She was also smart, only thing brighter then her was her smile, which seem to light up every room she stepped in. I guess her and Tyree had a little thing before I came into the school, and he had not intentions on letting that go. Tyree was the school bully, a professionally trained trouble maker. The kind of kid every parent tells his or her kid to stay away from. My Mother tried to keep me away from him, but like most kids I didn’t listen. Ty was my man at first, he didn’t like to many people, but he liked me. We did a lot of dirt together, everything from leaving school early, vandalizing property and the habit that stuck with me the most, stealing. One day we were at this bagel shop and neither one of us had any money. So I decided to steal for both of us, I got away with three bagels, two bags of chips and two sodas. It was so easy, I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever pay for anything. That mentality would keep my hands sticky for many years to come. Anyway, back to Carmen. We had something, at the time I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something. She told me that Ty had a thing for her, but she wasn’t interested and she was more into me. I figured since they never had anything, it wasn’t wrong, Ty saw different. One cool fall day Carmen and I stood outside the school bus in front of an audience for about 20 minutes waiting to kiss each other. I believe this was the first time I ever entertained a crowd. Its funny, I remember how strong those jitters felt in my stomach, and I had no intentions of ever performing in front of a crowd again. I couldn’t tell if I was shaken because it was a little cold outside or if it was because I was nervous. Either way I was shaken, but I managed to keep my cool. As everybody screamed and tried to influence me to kiss her, I choked, I felt my body go stiff and I couldn’t move. The moment was too much for me, it didn’t stop Carmen though. I closed my eyes for a second and in that instance I felt her lips press against mine, shortly after my heart exploded through my chest as my legs shook and my body felt empty. Somehow, word got back to Ty the next day about our sold out event, and he wasn’t too pleased that he missed the show. So third period came, and during that period were in the same class. Ty walked in, with this look of anger and despair on his face. He approached me, gave me this mean glare and then pow!! Punched me square in the face. I was shocked. My nose began to bleed and everybody in the class got real quiet, by far one of the more embarrassing moments in my life. I stood there with blood running down my face and landing on my hands as I tried to keep it from dripping on my brand new shirt. Before I could react the teacher entered the class, and saw me sitting there holding a pool of blood and what felt like a broken nose. She stood there with her mouth open for a second and then yelled for me to get to the bathroom, and that was when I discovered the truth about friendships.

Chapter Two (A Lesson In Death)

I learned early in life that you can’t necessarily trust everyone you consider a friend. If you have just one person that you can honestly say is a “real friend” then you are truly blessed. Learning this lesson early helped me in a lot of ways, I adapted and learned not to put people on pedestals. The lesson also hurt me in just as many ways, I learned not to trust people and not to believe in everything I heard or saw. I was once told that “9 out of 10 of the people that I meet in my life would be full of sh*t”, that held up to be true. That long line of deceptive friends only began with Ty. After a while I began to tune what everyone was saying about him out and really saw him to be a friend. I figured with all we’d done together there was no way we could be anything different. I was clearly wrong. Ty did a little more then give me my first experience with false friendships, he forced me to stand up for myself, if nothing else I should thank him for that. The day after he punched me in my face, I was walking in the hallway with Carmen to our next class, we became a force to be reckon with after that kiss. I never cared where we were going, it just felt good to be next to her. I was walking beside her telling her jokes and them I heard a loud sound which drowned out her laughter, boom!! I looked over and all of her books were on the floor, Ty came over and knocked them clean out of her hand. Her papers were everywhere and he stood over her laughing while she bent down to pick them up. That was it, I lost it, and to this day I don’t know what came over me. Pow! I punched Ty so hard I though a piece of his face was stuck to my fist. I must of punched him about twenty times and tried to throw him down the stairs in the hallway. It felt like an eternity before a teacher got there, when in reality it was probably only a minute or so. It was my first fight, and it felt good, a little too good. I was no longer the new quiet kid, and he was no longer the bully. The tide finally turned and I felt like I was the man. I decided nobody would ever punk me again, I was ok with defending myself. Ty and I never spoke again after the incident, we couldn’t stand each other anymore. Little did I know he would only be one person in the long line of people who would end up wishing bad for me. From there I went on to meet an older guy named Giz. That was my man, I looked up to him. He was everything I thought I wanted to be at that time. Older, smart, and fresh, he had on new kicks everyday. Giz was short, but you would never know by the size of his personality. He used to work out in the park all the time, so he wasn’t big, but he was strong. He was dark-skinned and seem to get a new haircut everyday. I couldn’t keep up with how much jewelry he had, I lost count after about the seventh or eighth watch. I also couldn’t keep up with how many girls he had, all the girls around the way liked Giz, he was hard not to like. Dude was never in school, but somehow was never in trouble, me being a kid, I couldn’t figure that one out to save my life. All I knew was that he always showed me nothing but love for whatever reason, and he made all his people look after me. He used to always say he saw something in me, something in my eyes, he knew I’d be different. I aint care what he saw, I just wanted to be seen with him, it made me feel like I was on another level. He taught me a lot about the streets. He taught me about swagger, use to talk about what girls like and taught me how important confidence was when dealing with any situation. He ended up teaching me that presentation is everything and I would remember that when going through life. Of course for all the good things he taught me, there was also a few bad. He also showed me how to make money in the streets . He was heavy into the drug game and me, I was never interested. Meeting him sparked my interest a little more then I thought it would though, but he never let me get involved. He always said it wasn’t for me. I used to see him hit people off with things, but he never let it go any further then that, and I never thought anything of it. Little did I know he could have been saving my life, I just wish I could of done the same for him.

One day I was in the park with my boys, talking and telling jokes. It was beautiful outside, spring was finally coming and everybody couldn’t wait to be outside. The park was flooded with people and everybody had on their best. I remember sitting on one of the slides by the monkey bars talking to my friends when I saw a fight break out. I had no idea who it was just saw two different crowds of guys going at it. As I was getting closer trying to figure out who was fighting, shots rang out and everybody begin to scatter. All I could hear was loud thunderous gun shots roaring over the screams of everyone in the park. I saw the smoke from the gunfire fill the air and before I could turn to run, I saw Giz falling to the ground and I froze. My mind was telling my legs to move, but my legs wouldn’t listen, I was in shock. I watched Giz’s body hit the floor and ran over to see if he was ok. Yet, before I could get there I heard more shots, the big Jamaican guy with the dreads kept shooting. I saw more smoke from the gun fill the air and his hand shake as I heard each shot. I hit the ground and by the time I looked up the cops were approaching the scene. My friend grabbed me and told me to run, so we flew out the park. I came back later and saw the big Jamaican guy on the ground in hand cuffs, I also found that Giz didn’t make it. That was my first encounter with death, first time being so close to it, first time seeing someone shot. Seeing that happened to him hurt me, but it shaped me, did just as much good as it did bad. I saw the results of that lifestyle early, and it was enough for me to know that there had to be a better way out. I didn’t fear death, but I didn’t welcome it either. I felt I had too much to live for, and Giz told me that this day would come. He also told me that I would be something special one day, I was hoping he’d be right about that one too. I missed him though, it was tough to get past that, I looked at him like he was my family. Mostly everybody I knew hated him, so I had to grieve by myself, it made me stronger though. After Giz died I wasn’t really in a rush to make new friends. Through him I learned I was different, wasn’t like the other kids my age, and it was painfully obvious. I quickly became an outcast. The few friends I did make, I ended up cutting off after short periods of time. This was the point in my life when I begin to believe that everything was fake, and I still struggle with that today. I couldn’t find it in me to trust or believe in anybody that wasn’t family, and sometime I couldn’t trust family either. I became a outlaw, truly anti-social and that led me to a treacherous road.

Chapter Three (Summer Rain)

There was a stretch in my life where I just couldn’t seem to break away from the demons that were beginning to reside inside of me. I felt everywhere I turned there was something going wrong, or something negative happening to someone I loved or myself. I became a pessimist, never believed too much good came out of being alive. It sounds bad, but a lot of people live this way and I remember this time in my life all too well. There was a span of about three summers where I learned to hate more then I learned to love. I was usually the life of the party, always making everybody laugh, but on the inside I was crying. I kept it all to myself because I felt that was the commendable thing to do. Quiet as kept, I still do. I never believed that anybody else should suffer because of my own misfortunes, I could do that on my own. Besides, nobody likes a complainer. That was a dangerous path, one no one should ever travel, but I did, a path of destruction. That path began when my Nana died. As an adult you may forget what people said to you, and may even forget what they did, but you never forget how they made you feel. Nana made me feel special, made me feel loved. I spent countless amounts of weekends with her, and I loved every minute of it. She loved me and I knew it, it was easy to tell. She would do anything for me, and the feeling was mutual. I drove her crazy though, to this day I don’t know how she dealt with it, I guess love can create an incredible amount of patience. Nana was special, very loving, and very kind. A true family women, one that was very easy to love. One thing I can say from being around her, my Mother, and my Grandmother, I never felt a lack of love. They all loved me very much for who I was, and I always knew that. It felt like almost every weekend, Nana and I would be playing cards, or doing crossword puzzles. When it wasn’t that we were watching her favorite game shows on television. She always made sure I had everything I needed, and that made the middle of Bedstuy feel like the Bahamas. Her apartment was an escape, one that I miss dearly.

For a few years every summer I went to Virginia to visit my Biological Father. My Father was a bigger guy, dark-skinned and average height. Heavy set and clean cut, always seemed to have a fresh cut. He wasn’t always big, but as the years went on, so did the pounds. That’s a joke Father. Simply put, those summers were bitter sweet. Sometimes it was cool, and others it was hell. To top it off there came a point when I no longer wanted to leave NY for the summer, because I felt like every time I did, someone was no longer there when I got back. The first summer, it was Nana. I remember the day like it was yesterday, although I couldn’t of been any older then nine. I sat in my Grandmothers apartment, while everyone else kind of sat around me in this awkward silence. I think a few family members and friends were there, sitting around my Grandmothers well put together living room. I remember this golden silence filled the room as everybody seemed to be intertwined in their own thoughts. I knew something was up, but had no idea what. Then after minutes of debating who was going to tell me, my Grandmother was chosen as lucky winner number one. She took me in the room and sat me down on her bed. I remember a dimness in the room that sits with me to this day. She sat next to me, held my hand and told me that my Nana was no longer alive. I remember my heart falling into my stomach, I think I literally felt it. I was crushed and I couldn’t believe it. As young as I was I looked my Grandma in the eye and asked her if I could be alone, she said “sure”. I took a minute, I dealt with it, and I would never be the same.

Although death is just a natural part of life that we all must deal with at one point or another, I didn’t see it like that. I felt that she was another person that was taken from me and I couldn’t understand why. I felt like God took her from me knowing I didn’t want to be without her, I felt like it was punishment. I was heartbroken for the first time, and had no idea how to deal with it. So I did what came natural I became angry. I cried myself to sleep for the next few nights, until I don’t think I had a tear left in me. I couldn’t sleep and my mom was there, every step of the way, but death is hard…real hard. The next summer I came home and discovered that I lost another family member. This one really hurt my Grandmother, I felt for her. Poppy died. I knew Poppy to be my Grandfather, another influence on my childhood. He was my Grandmother’s second husband. I never met my Biological Grandfather, because he passed away before I was born. So Poppy was the closest thing I had to a Grandfather. I don’t remember as much as I would like to about him, but I remember a few things. I remember when we watched sports together, and I remember him making me laugh. He was a smooth man, knowledgeable, always saying something clever. I liked that, I kept that. I remember he taught me the phrase “See you later alligator, after while crocodile.” We parted using that phrase every time, but this time we parted for good. Another summer, another death, I felt a pattern coming, and I didn’t like it.

Chapter Four (A Stitch In Time)

By this point in my life, I’d already seen more death then I could handle, and I was pretty sure there was more to come. I started to feel as if I should be careful, very selective about whom I choose to develop a bond with. I just felt there could be more bad then good to come out of being careless. I learned to do a lot of things on my own, I learned to enjoy my own company. Being the only child at that time, I didn’t have much of a choice. I was alright with that though, I got to know who I was. I started to feel as if I didn’t need anybody though, I knew what it felt like to need, and I didn’t like that feeling. I learned a lot from those summers I spent with my father as well. Probably a little more then I wanted too. Every summer I would travel to Virginia to visit him and my Uncle. The first few summers were cool, they were different, they were fun. After a while, it became more of a routine then a pleasure. My Father and I never really had the best relationship, but as a kid I still loved him because he was my Father. Plus I felt like I needed him, there was that feeling I mentioned earlier, I don’t like to need. He tried at times, it just seemed as if he was more interested in getting me to fear him then to respect him. In the first few summers, he put me in camps and threw me birthday parties. Those were the good times, I seemed to be always be the life of my own parties, having dance contest and showing off for my friends. Those days were fun, unfortunately they were drowned out by the times that were not so good. He always had a temper, very abusive, these were signs that I should never live with him, signs that I would later miss. My Uncle made all the summers worth it though, he was a good Uncle. He’s my father’s twin brother, so he’s like the “cool” version of my father. My Uncle was like the older guy that never forgot was it like to be young, you could confide in him, and he wouldn’t judge you. He always went out of his way to help me, and I appreciated that. He would always come get me, take me shopping, do all the things that kids love, and I needed that. My father at times made it hard to be a son. Sometimes it felt like he created standards that he and I both knew I couldn’t live up too. To this day at times I think it was just to make himself feel better, At least that’s how it felt to me. When he was good, he was great, but when he was bad, he was a nightmare. You’ll come to hear about that dream a little later. I mentioned that these summers were bitter sweet, partly because of my Father’s mood swings, and partly because I missed my mother. There were good times though, I enjoyed camp, I just didn’t get along with any of the other kids. They didn’t appear to like me and I didn’t care, cause I didn’t like them much either. I remember the Kids of Today Camp like it was yesterday. It was in a run down facility that you could tell was losing money every year. They probably used all of they money they were making to keep the lights on and keep candy in the vending machine. Every parent who had a kid they didn’t want to deal with seem to put their kid in this camp. It was an old big blue building with half a playground in the back and a gymnasium, game room, and snack center on the inside. The building looked much better on the inside then it did on the out, but either way it wasn’t a five star palace. The building may have been in bad shape, but the people were good. Well most of them, the counselors I got along with at least. I was somewhat of a rebel in camp, always doing something I had no business doing. I snuck out to leave during the day, went home early, and hardly went to the instructional classes. I felt there was negative tension between me and the other kids simply because I was from New York. It could have been a part of my imagination, but I doubt it. I spent most of my time in camp to myself, counting the hours until I got to go home. Only really interacted when I was playing sports, but even then I ran into a few confrontations, one in particular that I will never forget. I remember the older kids never wanted the younger kids to play with them in anything. Well I was apart of the younger crowd at the time, and I wasn’t necessarily ok with that. It wasn’t that I wanted to play with the older kids, but I didn’t want them to tell me that I couldn’t either. I felt like I should be able to play with who I wanted, when I wanted, especially since I was nicer then most of the older kids anyway. The game room was most filled with pool tables, foose ball tables and arcade games. Pool was by far the best attractions and there were only two tables for us to play on. That caused many problems, especially around the time they held the pool tournaments. One day I remember playing this older kid in pool, and I started working him. He was known for winning and well he wasn’t too happy about being so close to taking a L. His name was Victor, bigger kid, felt like he owned the play area whenever he was in it. Victor was huge, dark skinned, with a flat top. Probably the first flat top I’d ever seen in person, it was crazy. He was a lot stronger and more athletic then most of the kids his own age, and to add injury to insult he was older then me. I looked up to him, but only literally, not figuratively. Most of the kids were scared of him, I wasn’t, I felt like I was from New York, I’d seen tougher. He put his stick on the table and told me he was done playing, our game was finished. He then basically told me to kick rocks and find another game, I told him to kiss my as*. I remember kids started surrounding the table preparing to watch what they probably thought would be my last moments on earth. Before I knew it the pool table was surrounded with spectators and I was once again the center of the attention. I remember him walking towards me in a moment that seemed to have been forever, I help my pool stick tighter and waited. He walked over and tried to take the pool stick out of my hand, so I fought for it, turns out he was stronger, a lot stronger, he won. I didn’t care though, I punched him in his side and kept trying to get the stick back, until he pulled it so hard I flung across the floor. I flew in the air and landed conveniently on my chin boom! I bust it wide open, I turned over and grabbed my chin and it felt like I stuck my hand in a sink full of water. Blood raced from chin faster then I could catch it. I snapped, I picked the pool stick up that was lying on the table and tried to take his head off with it. I missed, and was constrained by the counselors before I could sink my teeth in the revenge I ached for. Instead or revenge, I left with a busted chin, a bloody shirt, and a memory that would haunt me. I had to get stitches and was suspended from camp for a week. That probably wasn’t the best impression to leave my first year there.

Chapter Five (Meaning)

At this point in my life I struggled to find meaning in anything. The fight at camp pist me off for several reasons. For one I felt like I was targeted and it didn’t matter. I knew in my heart that I’d done nothing wrong, however I ended with the busted chin and the suspension. Victor and his boys got a slap on the wrist and a talk from the counselor. My mother always told me that life wasn’t fair, I then knew that more then ever. I never wanted to go back to that camp, but of course I was forced too, and once again I had to face everyone after what happened. Revenge wasn’t really an option for me, I had one strike left. I was already in trouble at home and Victor was a lot older, stronger, and deeper then me. I had to eat it, and I never forgot. From that day on I was a target at camp, it made me hate everyday I had to be there. My stomach would turn as soon as I pulled up to the building every morning but I knew I had to stick it out. Learning at such a young age that sometimes I had to deal with things that I didn’t necessarily like helped guide me through a lot of situations in life. However, I still couldn’t understand why nobody could see my point of view, why did I feel so isolated and so misunderstood. All I did was stand up for myself and do what I felt everybody else was scared too, why did that make me wrong? That was a lesson I was forced to learn the hard way. When choosing to go against the grain or create waves as some people say, you have to accept that it makes life that much harder. I didn’t truly understand that concept yet, but I would real soon. I just couldn’t find meaning in being regular, or average, and I still cant. I could never understand why someone would want to be normal or just blend in. I never wanted to follow the rules, or do what was expected of me, I always saw that to be failing. For me it was always go harder, or go home. That mentality got me into about as much trouble as it did anything else, but somehow in the end it always seems to be worth it. Somebody once told me that “You live a very different and unique life, and because of that your very different, but at what cost?” I couldn’t really answer that question, I felt only success could show itself as the obvious answer. I felt as if I was always struggling to find meaning in things most people don’t even notice. I’ve always been very analytical, to the point where I am not able to enjoy most of the things average people do. It’s definitely a gift and a curse, if you ask me I would say it’s more of a curse. With the amount death I’d been around thus far, I couldn’t understand how people could be so fake. How they could be so unreliable and never be there for other people. I learned early that life was precious and everything you have can be taken from you in an instant, and I would give anything to have one more night with Nana. Yet, most people walk around as if tomorrow is promised and they treat people as if they wouldn’t care if they were dead. Well sometime you have to prove that feeling, and unfortunately by that time its too late, that bothered me. I couldn’t find meaning in friendships, family, and sometimes life. Just couldn’t understand why people acted the way they did, and what motivated them to be who they were. Fifteen years later I still haven’t figured that out, but Ill keep you posted.

Chapter Six (The Hood After Father)

Throughout all of the flakey things I’ve dealt with up until this point, there was one thing that remained consistent. That was the relationship with my mother. I love my mother more then I love myself and I always have. We practically grew up together, and have always been best friends. She was always in my corner, that was something I could always count on, and it felt good. I wasn’t afraid of much, because I knew regardless of what came my way, she would back me. I got used to it just being my mom and I, maybe a little to used to it in fact. I definitely wasn’t prepared to let anyone infiltrate our little bubble, at least not without a fight. My mom didn’t bring too many men around me, and now that I’m older I understand why, I commend her for that. The few times I do remember meeting a guy, I remember immediately disliking them. I don’t really think anyone could of appeared to be good enough for my mother, I felt like I would hate them all. Until I met one. There was one guy who appeared to be different from the bunch, I didn’t know what it was then, but I definitely do now. This man came in and didn’t necessarily come in my life the same way the others did. His approach was different. He made an attempt to hang out with me, gave me more attention then I was used to, I enjoyed that. There was something special about him, and today I know that man as Pop. Today my Pop and I have the best relationship any father and son can have. I look up to him in every way, and I appreciate everything he’s done for me. I look at him as much more then a dad, I see him as a best friend, a brother, and a mentor. If I can be half the man he is, ill be happy with the way I turned out. We weren’t always two peas in a pod though, and times were nothing like they are now when we first met. The method he used when introducing himself to me appeared to be ingenious at first, and it was, but it quickly backfired.

See at first he would come around and hang with me, play madden or whatever else. I got used to that, so much in fact I believed he was my friend. The minute I found out I was wrong though, I became problem child number 5. I did whatever I could to try to prevent him from seeing my mother. Anything from brushing his toothbrush on the floor to hiding something that I knew he would need. I would be disrespectful on purpose and really make it hard for everybody. I didn’t necessarily have anything against him, just had a lot against him dating my mother. It drove our family crazy at first, there was a lot tension between the three of us. The situation led to me being upset with my mother because I felt like she was taking his side. I remember one time my mother hit me for saying that he wasn’t my father, and she kept yelling “say it again!” I’d say it “he aint my father, he ain’t my father!” Pow! Pow! Pow! She must of hit me about eight times during that exchange, that’s how stubborn I was. Another time I remember being so upset at something he did, I attempted to punch the wall, and missed and hit the window. I broke the entire glass window in the family room. Almost cut my hand off in the process. My mother was hot! I think I can still feel that whoopin, that was a bad one, in fact that may have been the first time they disciplined me at the same time. I never got used to that. In the end I was just being a kid, and didn’t understand that he made my mother happy. I thought it would be the two of us forever, but I'm glad I was wrong. It took years before I began to see things for what they were and began to appreciate my Pop. I learned tons of lessons on being a man and accepting responsibility by just watching him live. He was only about twenty-one when he came into our life and took on the challenge of loving my mother and raising me. I can really appreciate that today. Partially because I don’t think I could of done it myself, and I definitely didn’t make it easy for him. It was damn sure a bumpy road, but one that was well worth it in the end. Eventually we got past the rough start and he began the journey of bringing me into manhood.

Chapter 7 (Corruption)

I can still vividly remember the time when my Pop came around, once we got past that rough start, a lifetime of good came out of it. I learned how to ride a bike, how to talk to girls, and I got a little sister. That was a another memorable experience, I still remember exactly where I was when she was born. Playing in the backyard, I was as happy as I’d ever been and didn’t know why. I had no idea it was because I’d just experienced the birth of someone I would love more then myself. Unfortunately while things were going so well for me at home, I couldn’t say the same for my life outside. I call this chapter corruption, because this is the part in my life when I remember truly changing. I felt as if I was finally coming around and learning to like and trust people. That would quickly change. For some reason or another my sixth grade year was tough for me. My family and I moved once again, this time to East New York. The kids were different, they were tougher, and I had to adjust, so I did. I got into a lot of fights that year, more then I can remember. I don’t think I started any of them, but for some reason I always found myself in one. This was the year I held my first gun, scored my first knock out, and met my first true friend. His name was Lamar, that was my man, we did everything together. Lamar was shorter, but bigger then me. He was brown-skinned and had a rough look to him. He didn’t really get along with any of the other kids either and I think that’s why we clicked. We played ball together, fought together, and just ran the streets together. It felt good to know that somebody had my back, the same way I had theirs, we were a good team. Lamar had the same attitude as me, he wasn’t a tough guy, but he wasn’t a punk. We tried our best to stay out of trouble, but always backed each other up whenever we found ourselves in it. Unfortunately for me, most of the negativity I witnessed that year, Lamar wasn’t around for. I always seemed to find myself alone when I needed him most. I saw a lot of violence that year, the good thing was most of it didn’t involve me. It seemed to have a similar effect on me though. I remember one day I was sitting with my Grandmother at this bagel shop we used to eat at quite often. I loved their bagels and the men behind the counter were always cool. It was a smaller shop on the corner of a Queens block in Jamaica, one way in, one way out. We always sat on the first two stools right by the door and enjoyed the food and the view. Every time we went it was normally the same routine, but one day I wished we didn’t have that view. It was nice clear summer day and I was looking out the window and eating a bagel as I’d done so many time before. I heard a big thump hit the window and I looked up and saw this man get stabbed in both of his eyes. He was bleeding profusely, and all the bagel shop owner wanted him to do was get away from the shop. He threw some napkins and some water at him and told him to find another place to die. Unbelievable. Another time I was looking outside the window from my Grandmothers 7 story apartment building also in Jamaica Queens, and I saw a man get ran over by a car. The man laid there in the street under the street lights dying while the driver kept driving. Shortly after that while I was in the hospital waiting to get stitches on my knee, a man ran in the hospital screaming he was shot. He was a younger black male and he stumbled into the hospital with his clothes ripped and covered in blood yelling to save his life. They didn’t seem to be in a rush to help him, in fact they treated him like he was a burden. The last incident of violence I witnessed that year was a gang initiation on my block in Brooklyn. It was late at night and I was walking home from somewhere, when I ran into a group of kids. I cant quite remember where I was coming from but I never forgot what I saw. They were hosting a gang initiation and they beat that kid damn near to death. I remember they banged his head on the concrete and almost through a car window. Suddenly I had no interest in joining a gang after that night. I’m not exactly sure why I saw so much violence in that short period of time, but if nothing else it forced me to understand that violence is an everyday part of life. It showed me that you have to be on your p’s and q’s every second because you never know when someone will call your number. It made me uneasy, slightly vicious, and I was always tested because I was skinny. I never wanted to be either guy on the wrong end of those incidents, I knew I’d do whatever to ensure I wasn’t. That made me feel as if I had to become violent, not because it was cool, but to survive. I felt it was a necessary evil. It also showed me how ruthless some human beings could really be, another notch on my reasons to never trust anyone list. That list just kept growing and growing as I got older, and eventually became too long to deny. Those incidents also showed me how thoughtless and carless people could be. I kept hearing what the bagel owner told that dying stranger and seeing that driver drive off after hitting that man. I felt as if I’d knew the truth about people, and you would have one hell of fight in front of you if you wanted to tell me different. Violence wasn’t the only thing that corrupted me that year, I also dealt with two pretty somber family issues. I wont go too deep into either one, because they both pain me to this day, but I cant completely leave them out because its an important piece of my childhood. Something bad happened to my mother, something real bad. Something that should never happened to any women so long as she walks the earth.

Chapter 8 (Hatred)

I could never forget the day, nor the feeling. There I was, sitting on my bed watching television, another normal day just letting the time pass. I heard the front door bust open and heard a women screaming. I took a step outside my room to find that the woman screaming was my mother, and she wasn’t screaming for joy. I saw her crying uncontrollably and tears hitting the floor as she stumbled into her bedroom. Her face was red, her shirt undone and her hair ruined. I was too young at the time to put together exactly what happened immediately, but eventually I figured it out. I asked her what happened, and she said “nothing,” she just held me and cried. I cried with her, and we sat there on the bed and cried for minutes, as I tried my best to console my Mother the only way I knew how. I’d never seen her in so much pain, so much agony. It was to the point I remember feeling something inside of me snap. I lost it. I left the room and immediately went to the balcony. I kicked everything outside over and punched the walls until my knuckles began to bleed. I remember crying and cursing at God, I felt if he was real he would of never let this happen to my Mother. This was around the time that my family began to believe in God and his word. I believed no longer, my faith fell short. They say everything happens for a reason and bad things happen to good people; But in my eyes that was b*llsh*t, not things that bad, not to a woman that good. I remember her describing the incident on the phone, and my thoughts of feeling I could never find this guy. I searched high and low for weeks, looking for a man that I wouldn’t recognize if I saw him everyday. I didn’t know how I’d find him, or when I’d find him, but I felt I would, and I knew when I did, I’d kill him. I wanted him to feel just half the pain my Mother and I felt when we cried in the room together that day. That was my mission and I carried that burden for years, to an extent I still do. All in all the only feeling I remember having after that event was hatred. I hated everybody, wanted to hurt people who never did anything to me. They say hurt people, hurt people; truer words have never been spoken. I remember not being able to sleep, and constantly trying to come up with ways I could avenge my Mother and make someone feel what I felt. Even though my Mother found ways to be strong, I couldn’t. She would try to get me to understand that these things happen and we would only get stronger for it. It made me feel as if she was the strongest woman in the world, a lot stronger then I could ever be. I couldn’t let it go that easy, I wanted someone else to hurt like I did. Unfortunately I was too ignorant at the time to understand that this wouldn’t change anything, and the man who did this would feel no pain. I had to release, and I never quite figured out a healthy way to do it. That’s the day I learned how fair life really was, and that’s the same day I became a monster. A monster in no way prepared for the things that where to follow in the next phase of his life.

Chapter 9 (The Decision)

The rest of my sixth grade year was also filled with negativity. It didn’t phase me though, it had become the norm. After seeing the way people reacted to those violent moments, and after what happened to my Mother, I saw that people really didn’t give a damn about each other. I once again remembered my Mother telling me that life wasn’t fair, and I decided since life wasn’t fair, I wouldn’t be fair either. I begin to take things I wanted, whatever it was. If it didn’t have a bulletproof glass and cameras around it, I would take it. I stole food from stores and took things out of peoples bags and coats. I hated what life had done to my family and I guess in my own little way, this was my way of paying life back. The one thing I realized in stealing everyday was that I was pretty damn good at it. I never got caught, I mean never, and that lead me to steal for years to come. It got to the point I would steal from people and they knew I stole from them. I never cared though, at that point I wanted a reason. To this day I don’t really know why I started stealing so much. I think in the beginning it was out of anger, and somehow I felt like I was paying life back for the things that happened to me. Little did I know, I was only hurting innocent people, and Karma would later come looking for me many times. After a while I think it was simply because I wanted things that I either couldn’t afford or didn’t want to pay for. Either way it was a bad habit that I didn’t break for years.

The end of my sixth grade year came fast and I graduated. It was a good feeling, even though I graduated in fifth grade as well, it kind of felt like routine at that point. That’s how it was when you moved every year, I lost friends and I got extra graduations. That was a good time for me though, that was a good time for all of us. Graduations have a way of bringing families together and bringing the best out of everybody, I was glad I got to experience that twice in such a short period of time. I remember seeing the smiles on everybody in my family’s faces. Unfortunately those smiles would soon fade and that feeling was short lived. It was at this point that my parents decided enough was enough and choose to move to Colorado. I remember the day my mom told me, she sat me down in her room and said she had something to explain to me. It kind of felt like the time she told me she got married. I remember sitting on the bed with the feeling of wondering what was next. I hated that feeling, I always thought she caught me doing something I thought I got away with it. I was relived to find out the last time the news was she got married, but not so relieved this time around. When she told me initially I thought it was another part of New York, I never heard of. I figured hey, we move every year, this is nothing new. Little did I know Colorado was on the other side of the Country. I wasn’t prepared for that, at all. Once I realized the severity of the move, I wanted a way out, and I was desperate. Everything I knew was in New York and I wasn’t quite ready to pack up leave. Unfortunately time waits for no one, and apparently parents don’t either. So my Mother let me make my own decision, and that’s when I decided to move to Virginia. I figured it was perfect, I was at a point in my life where I felt maybe it was time to really get to know my biological father. Not only that, I would remain on the east coast and a few steps closer to home. I told my Mother it was time, and it was a move I needed to happen. I decided to leave the one woman who loved me more then life itself and take on the challenge of living with a man I hardly knew. As time would tell, taking my talents to Virginia Beach ended up being the absolute worse decision of my life, and one I would regret forever

Chapter 10 (Stairway To Hell)

So there I was, new state, new family, new school. I felt like a new kid. It was supposed to be a new beginning, but ended up being more like an old ending. Everything was good at first, but then again most things are always good at first. Virginia was so much different then New York, nothing like what I knew back home. It was a beautiful place though, I remember it being the nicest place I’d ever seen. The streets were clean and the people were nice. There were trees everywhere and the air just felt cleaner. I missed my family tremendously, but something told me everything was going to be alright.

I adjusted to Virginia Beach pretty fast, a lot faster then I anticipated. It was much slower and extremely boring, but I felt it was an easier way to live. I left a negative environment and a lot negative people behind me, unfortunately I can’t say the same about my negative ways. Being a kid in a new school is always complicated, and being in a new state makes it a little harder. I didn’t seem to get along with any of the other kids and didn’t make much of an effort to change that fact. I remember my first week at school, it seemed like everything was so different. The school was much bigger and much nicer then the school I previously attended. It was a brand new school at the time, I believe it was only a few years old. The Gym was huge, the lunch room was clean and I even got my own locker. Those blue lockers seemed to have stretched for miles, I didn’t even know how to open one. I wasn’t used to that, not coming from Brooklyn. The hallway floors were shiny and all the class rooms were pretty well put together. I was extremely impressed with the school, I just wish I could of said the same for the students. I was comfortable staying to myself, and got used to doing so pretty early. In Virginia I became even more of an outcast then I was before, it was good that I was already used to that. It seemed most of the girls liked me because I was new and most of the guys hated me for the same reason. They weren’t to fond of boys from New York, so I didn’t necessarily get off to a good start. In Virginia I lost my love for a few things, people, basketball, and family. The first two started at school, the latter at home. As the year went on I started to met people but still felt the need to stay to myself. For the most part I hung out with my man Evan. That was my dude, we held each other down. Even was a short, slim fair-skinned kid from Newport News Virginia. He was a smart kid, I don’t think he played any sports at the time, he was more known for his flat top and quick tongue. He was popular though, it seemed like he knew everybody, I remember him introducing me to pretty much everybody I would end up meeting. In a way he replaced Lamar, I needed that. He probably never knew it, but he was a lifesaver. Just introducing to me everybody and showing me the ropes at school made my life so much easier. I was distracted and it took me away from the fact that I missed my family so much. Ev was able to help me deal with most of the problems that I came across at school, unfortunately he couldn’t help me with the problems I’d discover at home.

Living with my Father was different, but I had no idea just how different it would be. Looking back I'm still not sure what my fathers intentions were in having me there, but I'd come to find they weren't honorable. As time would past and situations where discipline was needed would arise, my Father would show his true colors as a person. See I'd never lived with my Father before, we just spent time together a few months out the year when the summer would come. Between him being at work and me being at camp, he never really had to be father. He may have had to be a dad, but he never really had to be a father. He left that job for the man my mother married, unfortunately I left that man behind. See when your a kid you look up to your dad, you want to be just like him. You want to walk like him, talk like him, do everything like him. Your dad is supposed to teach you everything he knows about life, and help you become a better man then he could ever be. Unfortunately for me, the biggest lesson my father taught me, was to never be anything like him.

Chapter 11 (Son Of A Bitch)

My Father made a hell of a lot of mistakes when I lived with him, and I forgive him for his ignorance. Though I survived and I'm able to see past what he did, the bottom line is what he did scared me, and affected my life in more ways then he could ever imagine. Just sitting here channeling my thoughts to put them down on this piece of paper draws me into a rage that the average human being probably couldn't understand. Some of the things my Father did to me I would even deem as inhumane, let alone unacceptable. A lot of the abuse I experienced has been removed from my memory forever. I seemed to have unconsciously blocked a lot of it out, but what I do remember, I remember vividly. Some of the discipline methods my father choose to use maybe described by some people as old school. As for the other methods, well I don’t know what you would consider those. I remember my father would come home from work and his eyes would be blood-shot red. He would reek of alcohol and what appeared to be another substance. I didn't realize that he had an abuse problem then, but its clear as day now. I'm not even sure that he was in his right mind when he did half of what he did to me, nonetheless it all sticks to me the same. For some of the most minor of offenses my Father would fight me like a man. I remember one time he asked me to rake the leaves in his back yard. I obliged, but understanding that the yard was the size of a football field, I asked how many bags? For that question alone he promised me an a** whooping I would never forget. He could be just as abusive verbally as he was physically. The more angry he got, the louder he got and the more curse words would form. I remember he would constantly tell me I was stupid, I wouldn't be sh*t, and I'd never go to college. I know right, yea he had a way with words, regular old Casanova. I don't know if he was ever serious when he told me to sleep with one eye open, but I did, just in case. I got sleep off of one eye many of nights, yea I came to find that it’s possible. Especially when someone you live with threatens to kill you on multiple occasions. That line still runs through my head as much as any, “I brought you’re a** in this world, and I’ll take your little a** out.” I probably heard that more then most kids hear I love you from their respective Father. That a** whopping that he promised me earlier turned out to be just as advertised, maybe even better. I remember him punching me so hard in my chest I flew over the bed. He would constantly kick me while I was on the floor curled up attempting to protect myself the best way I could. When he used a belt, I remember having so many whelps on my body I couldn’t sit or lay down. Those beatings would seem to last hours, at times I would even vomit once they finished. When I didn’t vomit I coughed up blood, in those times I thought I was dying. I remember he would throw or slam me into the nearest wall or counter, or slam my head into the floor. One time he threw me into his dinner table, and then beat me because I landed on his China, seriously. I remember being slapped in the head or in the face pretty often as well, that to me was almost his way of establishing his dominance. He had other ways of abusing me too, it wasn’t always necessarily him punching or kicking me. Sometime he’d throw things at me, like magazine racks or remotes or whatever was close. Other times he would make me eat soap until I would vomit from the taste. I remember spitting bubbles for hours, that taste seems to never leave your mouth. Conversely, I probably have the cleanest mouth on this side of the sun, thanks dad. Through all of the physical abuse the thing that seems to stick out the most to me are the days he would lock me out of the house. I remember he would lock me out for hours at a time during the winter. I could never forget the night he made me sleep outside in the backyard. I remember it was raining and I was laying on two garbage bags with one draped over me. I remember laying there thinking there’s no way he could actually leave me laying out here in the rain, he has to have a heart somewhere in his body…..He never came. I think that night I laid there in the rain was the last night I cried. I became a cold individual and decided that he wouldn’t be able to hurt me any longer. So as he continued to choke me, punch me, and kick me, I would take it. I would take it so long as he would dish it, and I wouldn’t utter a sound in the process. Even though I was only 12 years old at the time I understood a lot more then I realized. I understood that what I was experiencing wasn’t normal and I understood that I needed to find a way out. However, what I didn’t understand is how and why a man would do such harsh things to his child. A child that he decided to bring into this world, a child that needed him more then ever. In a way I felt as if I deserved it, as if it was my fault. I think a lot of people who are abused, feel this way. Abusive individuals have a way of making you feel as if their insecurities are drawn about by the way you handle yourself. I felt as if I had done something to deserve this and was simply being punished. Consequently, I never told anyone, I kept it mostly to myself for years. I cried out in my own little ways with subtle hints and subliminal messages, but no one ever caught on. In a way I didn’t want them to, I was young but I knew how this ugly situation could become a lot worse. I knew if my Parents or my Grandmother found out about some of the things this man was doing his days would be numbered. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer due to the lack of sanity in this man, I figured I was already one person too many. So I kept to myself. To this day in fact, I’ve released bits of it at times but never as much as what’s in this book, and even what’s in this book is only the half the story. Its enough though, enough for me to gain some type of closure and feel some sense of redemption. I’ve never felt as light as I do now and I’m glad. The one thing I still worry about to this day though is his relationship with his wife.

Vanessa was sweet, she was a blessing while I was there and I don’t know that I could of made it without her. She had that warm feeling, and I really needed that at the time. She was a short, classy, dark-skinned woman with a great sense of humor. I remember she had the nicest smile and would light up a room whenever I told a joke. I miss that, I felt a connection with her, almost as if we were two people trapped inside the same painful experience. I leaned on her for support and love when I needed it, and when she gave both it was genuine. Their relationship never seemed genuine to me and I always felt as if she feared leaving. I could have been wrong in sensing that, but that’s just the way it felt to me. I experienced many sleepless nights due their late night arguing and fighting. I’ll never forget one night it seemed like they fought the entire night. I remember laying in my dark room, it must have been about 3 or 4 o clock at night. There was yelling, screaming, shoving and I could hear them tussling and breaking things. I figured it was another one of his drunken rages, which would end in a few broken dishes and promises. The fight seemed to never stop and I don’t think I got more then an hour or two of sleep that night. When I woke up that morning I remember walking into the kitchen and it smelled like blood and flesh. I don’t know if the description of that smell makes sense, but it’s very similar to the smell of a hospital, which is a smell I absolutely hate. The scene was unforgettable, there was blood everywhere and knives scattered across the floor. There might have been a hole in the wall and you could just tell by the scene that a fight took place. The funny thing is after seeing it, I turned right back around and went back into my room as if nothing happen. In that house, these types of things had become the norm and I learned not to make a big deal out of anything that didn’t concern me. So to this day, they never mentioned anything about that bloody kitchen on that bloody night, and neither did I. I still have no idea who the receiver was in that blood bath, I could only hope it wasn’t the person whom probably deserved it least.

Chapter 12 (Love Never Lost)

I struggled with a lot of trust and love issues after living in Virginia, I lost a lot of love for a lot of things. Most importantly I lost my love for family and for life. See the abuse from my Father drained out all of the love I previously experienced with the other side of my family. I couldn’t remember past all of the dark days I’d just experienced. The entire year that I was there was pretty much more of the same. A lot of dark days with a few sunny ones in between. I think I blocked a lot of that year our for my sanity, unfortunately I couldn’t block out enough to escape the hatred as well. As it turns out my love for life and everything else for that matter would never be the same. My lost of love for family wasn’t all my Fathers fault though, my Grandfather played a factor in that as well. See to my understanding my Grandfather is rich, and sadly I don’t know his first name. He’s a tall, slim, brown skinned man with a mini afro. Always keeps his hair on point, reminded me of Steve Harvey, when Steve had hair. He lived very close to my Father and I can count the amount of times I’ve seen him on one hand. There was no surprise there really, he had no relationship with my Father or my Uncle when they were kids either. It wasn’t until they were grown that he came back into their lives and bought them off as his way of apologizing for his parental negligence. See I now understand that that side of my family is backwards and simply don’t understand the meaning of being a family. In his eyes, I have never attempted to develop a relationship with him. Why would I? I don’t know him. As a parent or a grandparent, it will always be your responsibility to reach out and develop a relationship with your children or grandchildren. After all, no child asked to be here. How you could possibly believe that it is the kids responsibility to reach out to you as an adult is beyond me. Nonetheless, that’s where he stood as a man, which was just one of the many reasons I found it hard to respect him. See my Father always told me I should reach out to him, develop a relationship with him so he can help me with my finances. Maybe pay off my college tuition or buy my first car as he did for them. I could never, see that’s the difference between my Father and I, I don’t have a price. I stand on my own and have a clear understanding that love should be earned and not purchased. While the thought of that may be appealing to the average man, to me its merely a cover up for a man to clear his constantly nagging conscious. I’d rather die on my feet then live on my knees, besides I’m worth more then he could ever afford. Whether my Grandfather ‘s views upon being a Grandfather are commendable is subjective, however the fact remains it slanted my opinion upon family. I started to believe at this point that family wasn’t worth much. I had a Father who tried to kill me and a Grandfather who acted as if getting to know me was beneath him. If nothing else at least the men in my family weren’t worth much, that was when my view on men changed, forever.

With all the love that was lost, I did manage to pick up on a love that would change my life forever. In most cases it would undoubtedly be a woman, but in mine it was more. In the dark I found my second talent, in the dark I found my light, In the dark, I found….my music. See all that time my Father had been putting his hands on me, I was putting my own hands to use. I wrote until words filled up every single page in my notebook. I begin writing about everything I would experience, the good as well as the bad. It started out as just thoughts, which eventually lead to poems, which eventually led to rhymes. The more I wrote the better I felt. I remember just the thought of my Father coming home made me sick to my stomach, I used to get knots in my stomach every time I heard the garage door open. That was a feeling I dealt with every single day. It seemed like nothing else could soothe that feeling. I never felt safe until I locked myself in the bathroom and wrote until my hands hurt. Eventually my writing became more then a hobby, it became a passion. Music did more then give me something to look forward to, it kept me sane. In a way, I felt so long as I could put my thoughts on paper, everything I’d experienced to that point wasn’t in vain. Somewhere, at some point, someone would listen to my thoughts, and that was enough, I was content. The one thing I knew was that I loved writing, and I knew I was pretty damn good at, But how good? I had no idea.

Chapter 13 (Family Reunion)

After my seventh grade school year I immediately told my Mother I wanted to come back home. She was excited to have me back, but no where near as excited as I was. I was happy to be leaving my Father and all those dark experiences behind. The problem was the damage was done and I would never be able to look at my father in the same light. I felt as if it would have been better if he just remained out of my life, rather then actually attempt to be there and do what he did. Nonetheless I was gone and trying to close that chapter in my life. So there I was, in another new state, trying to adjust once more. This time I took my show on the road and headed to Denver, Colorado. What a difference. I felt it as soon as I landed, higher altitude and thinner air. More trees and less black people; more money…more problems. It was a beautiful place though, nothing like anything I’d ever experienced before. I remember seeing mountains in person for the first time and being blown away. I was so close I could see the snow still on the mountains in the summer time, that was crazy to me. Colorado was definitely the biggest adjustment I’d had to make up to that point in my life, it was nothing like what I was used to, I mean nothing. The good thing was I was back with family, my real family. My parents just had another baby, so I was welcomed home by another little sister. That was the best part, growing up with my Sisters was great. I had a great relationship with both of them. We grew up together and learned from each other. Ultimately it would be my Sisters who would teach me how to love again, and that was something that would continue to occur. The one thing my Father did do, was help me appreciate the man that was currently in my life. See we had a long road with a lot of bumps and bruises as mentioned earlier in the book. In most families the stepfather thing doesn’t ever seem to pan out well. Well in this family, my Stepfather stepped up and lost the step. My Pop is an handsome guy, bald-headed and average height with a muscular build. Very intelligent but strong as a bull with a good sense of humor. After dealing with my Father I developed an appreciation for my Pop that would never fade. When you see how bad things can be, it makes it real easy to appreciate how good they can be. I realized that my Pop was everything my Father wasn’t and I appreciated that. I felt safe when I was with my Pop, not scared, I felt love when I was with my Pop, not hate. We’d go on to develop a relationship that to this day is one I am very blessed to have. Even though I went through what I did with my Father, I still feel like one of the lucky ones. Truthfully I could easily be one the people who live without ever knowing the love of a dad. I may have gone through a lot to get it, but I got it. I spent months asking God why couldn’t I have a dad that loved me, that could show me how to be a man and stand on my own two. Little did I know he answered that question years before, and I finally figured it out. All in all my home life in Colorado was good. I was back with my family and moving one step away from the dark year I’d previously experienced. I tried to take things one day at a time and for a while everything worked out just fine. What I knew was I loved my family and I was happy to be home, what I didn’t know was there were demons inside of me and they would soon begin to show. While I was happy to be home, I couldn’t necessarily say the same about being in Colorado. Everything was great while I was home, but unfortunately it was the complete opposite when I wasn’t.

Chapter 14 (Colorado Rocky)

My first year in Colorado was tough for several reasons. I was in a dark place and felt as if I was two different people. When I was with my Family I was happy, normal, but when I wasn’t I was mean, cruel. This is the point in my life where being intelligent, and too analytical started to work against me. I really started to realize that most people were full of it and never who they appeared to be. In my later years my Grandmother would teach me that people lie and that’s the bottom line, you just have to know that and deal with it accordingly. For some reason or another I always took it personal when people lied to me. After being lied to or discovering that a person was fake, I couldn’t respect them and therefore I couldn’t be around them. I decided that wasn’t me, I wouldn’t lie, and no one would intimidate me enough to make me lie. I never wanted to be anybody else, I was always happy being myself. If you didn’t like the person I was, I had no problems deleting our history and acting like we never met. I was told that when your honest and real, you should expect to have few friends. That was a challenge I was ok with, and that was a challenge that began my first year in Colorado. I didn’t really get along with anybody in school my eight grade year either. That was for several reasons, some probably due to issues I created myself. Part of it was because I was angry, and didn’t want to be there. I was angry with my Father for what he did, and angry with my Mother for making me leave NY. I missed Brooklyn, and felt as if I was stripped of an opportunity to have a much better childhood. My Mother’s decision to move me out of New York would later prove to save my life, but at the time it just seemed like a selfish decision. I felt as if my needs or opinions were not considered and the decision was made against my better judgment. As a kid, you always think everything is about you and you know best, so realistically I was just being a child. Nonetheless, that anger stuck with me throughout my years in Colorado and it was painfully obvious in my first. The other part of me not getting along with anyone seemed to be simply because I was new. I remember being tested by my peers early and often simply because I was the new kid from New York. It was almost as if the kids felt that had something to prove and would gain some type of stripes by fighting a kid from Brooklyn. It was nothing personal I just happened to be that kid. That made me the right one for the job, but the wrong one to try to hire. It was clear that I had a lot of anger I needed to release. Unfortunately more times then not, when you find yourself in that situation that anger finds a negative outlet. This time would be no different. I remember the first few days of school that year and sitting by myself at lunchtime. I denied acceptance to all who asked to sit with me, I had no friends and wanted to leave it that way. My trust issues began to take over my life slowly and I had no idea just how bad it would really get. I trusted myself, that’s it and only had expectations for myself as well. I felt as if everybody else’s intentions could only be bad and by day three that feeling would prove to be accurate.

It was another school day and most of the eight graders were in the lunch room waiting to eat. I remember the lunch room was huge, as was the rest of the school and seemed to have a thousand tables. There was a big glass window that took up the entire side of the cafeteria and you could look outside into the yard. The tables were round and they each had a few chairs, while there were soda machines and televisions along the walls. The lines were always long and ran all the way out of the food area. Waiting in the line was the worse cause there was hardly enough room to stand, let alone grab food and walk. I stood in the lunch line waiting to be served my everyday crappy school meal like every other student. As I waited patiently for the line to move I felt something hit me in my head, Pow! I turned to see what it was and discovered it was a French Fry, right as another one struck my face while turning. It was then I realized this black kid was throwing fries at me and laughing with the four kids he was with. I would later come to find that this kids name was Solomon, and he was the quite the neighborhood bully. Similar story to the rest, a kid a little bigger then most of his classmates and strongly protected by his two older brothers. They both attended the high school across the street, so there wasn’t much you could tell this dude. Solomon was an ugly kid, he was dark, short, practically bald and muscular. I remember he had funny looking teeth, when he smiled he looked like a ferret to me. He pretty much messed with whoever he wanted and most of these kids never had the balls to do anything back. We’ll at that time I didn’t know that, not that I would have cared if I did. Either way I felt as if two fries hitting me in my head were two fries too many, besides I didn’t do anything to this man. I realize now that my problem was I always had to stand up to the bully. It wasn’t because I thought I was tough, just too prideful or maybe too stupid to let anybody get off on me. Truth be told half the time I was as nervous as everybody else and didn’t know if I could win, but I was damn good at hiding it. I’d been fighting the bully my whole life, why stop now. My thought process in that line was one, why the hell is this ugly kid throwing fries at me, and two, I really don’t want to get into any trouble while I’m out here. I had a feeling my family already thought I was troubled and I knew getting suspended from school on the third day would only prove their concerns to be accurate. However, conversely I also knew that if you let the first person who showed his a** punk you, you was just setting yourself up to be the target of abuse the rest of the year. So in my own calm and diffusive way I asked this kid “Yo what the f*** are your throwing fries at me for?” He responded “Cause I feel like it New York. I heard you ni**as think ya’ll hard, welcome to Colorado.” It was like a movie, I was thinking “this really happens?” It was then he’s intentions became clear, he was simply jealous and felt threatened because a new kid was gaining a little more attention then him. I guess this was his own little way of establishing his dominance. Well I’d dealt with a man who felt the need to show his dominance before, only difference was that man was twice the size of this ugliness. It was also then I decided that this kid would never hit me with fry again. He said something else to me after his previous comment, but it was a little difficult to hear him over the sound of my lunch tray hitting him in his face. Before you knew it, it was on and everybody was pushing everybody on the lunch line, it felt like an episode of Oz. The good news was I established myself as a player in the little game these kids were playing, that bad news was I was on the away team. In the mist of the scuffle this short, skinny Mexican kid grabbed me and pretty much prevented me from putting my hands on my French Fry throwing adversary. More importantly though, he prevented a fight from happening in a situation where I was clearly out numbered. I’d forgotten about the three amigos that accompanies Solomon on the line. I appreciated that. Once the fight got broken up I was sent to the principals office and I pretty much started counting my loses at that point. I got inside the office ready to face whatever charges would be handed down to me, and to my surprise I found my principal was pretty understanding. He asked what happened, and I explained. I said I felt as if I was targeted because I was new and I decided not to try to make friends with these guys. He told me he realized that Solomon was a troublemaker and finding him in this situation was not surprising. Fortunately, for that he didn’t suspend me. Instead he gave me I.S.S, which stands for In School Suspension. It carries the same name, but it definitely doesn’t carry the same punishment as Outer School Suspension. The good thing was I avoided having to explain to my parents I was suspended from school in my first week. The bad thing was I was now on my principals radar, and would soon become a regular inside that I.S.S room. I went to I.S.S to begin serving my one-week sentence. It was a small room with individual cubby like desk sitting against the wall. They went around the room in a circle and you pretty much had to sit with your back to everything. There were fixtures on each side of the desk, which made it practically impossible for you to talk to your neighbor. It was designed for you to suffer and do all types of work and studying all day, probably more of the latter but for me I just suffered. I sat inside that extremely boring room and to my surprise I found myself sitting next to that Mexican kid I met earlier. Turns out that Mexican kid had a name, It was Mario. Mario was cool, he was real short, and always dressed in the latest fashion. His hair was slicked back and he talked real fast. He put me onto to pretty much everything I needed to know about my new school. He was a regular in I.S.S too, and let me in on all the secrets to get though those long and boring days. He also put me onto who my new enemy was and wasn’t to shy about relaying the trouble he felt I was in. I remember him telling me “Im’a keep it real with you man, I respect you because I’ve never seen anybody stand up to Solomon, but that dude is crazy and your going to have to fight all of them.” I told him I appreciated the knowledge and his obvious concern for my health, but also let him know don’t go making arrangements for my funeral quite yet. I told him “I’ma keep it real with you man, that nightmarish monster looking ni**a don’t scare me.” We laughed, but I can’t front I was a little concerned about what he told me, but he would never know. I felt like I made my bed and now it was time to lay in it. Turns out that’s exactly what I would do, and I had to dance to that music a lot sooner then I anticipated. Once I got released from I.S.S I ran into Solomon and his oversized, blond haired light skinned friend. If you every played Tekken, he looked just like the character Bryon. I remember him telling me “You f****d up now ni**a, We gon’ kill you’re a**.” Then in his own words he promised me hell everyday for the rest of the year. Turns out he was right, but ironically Solomon and I would never fight

Chapter 15 (Beginning Of The End)

So as it turned out Solomon was actually the least of my problems and merely a warning sign for things to come. It seems like from my eighth grade year, going into my first two years of high school, there was one problem after another. Its mostly a blur really, but I remember getting into fight after fight. I was in a really dark place and my attitude towards life and people was anything less then honorable. I wasn’t normal, I was cold and I was angry. I developed a tendency to take my anger out on whoever was closest to me. I became cruel and unusual, and I kept so much bottled in that a hatred begin to develop in me that became obvious to people who spent a lot time with me. I remember this kid named Leo spilled chocolate milk on my brand new shirt one day while we were in the lunch room at school. I loved that shirt, it was one of my favorites so I wasn’t too happy about it. Leo was a somewhat quiet kid who wasn’t really known for being a trouble maker. He was a light skinned, short kid with short hair who joked a lot, but in his own little quiet way. Though I didn’t see him as the type to do something like that on purpose, I was still furious. He apologized but he was laughing as he was doing it and I didn’t feel it was funny. The laughter kind of took away from the apology and I felt he needed to pay. I tried to let it go, but I remember being filled with so much rage I couldn’t conceal it. I walked to the lunch line and strategically picked up two cans of red soda. I then walked past all of the students who were standing on the big hill outside, and made my towards Leo while he was talking to his friends. I kindly said excuse me and then proceeded to pour both cans of soda over his head in front of everybody. Leo tried to get away, but I made sure to empty both cans on his clothes while the kids standing next to him rushed to move away. There were maybe 60 kids outside and they were all yelling, instigating and laughing. It felt good, real good, and at the moment, Leo created a monster. Looking back now I feel like what I did was terribly wrong and I feel bad about it, but I do understand my reasoning. His apology should have been a lot more genuine, and if it was his shirt would have been a lot more dry. Whether what I did was justified or not, I enjoyed the feeling of revenge and from that point on I remember always being in some sort of situation. I moved from one of the most violent states in America, to one of the better family states and became a much more violent kid. I was moving backwards and I didn’t mind. Violence seemed to surround my life now more then ever, and it wouldn’t get better anytime soon.

One day after a basketball game I was sitting next to my locker listening to everybody talk about random things. I wasn’t in the best mood, not really because we lost, but more so because I felt I wasn’t being respected as a ball player. I remember there was this cocky white boy on our team who always seemed to be the center of attention. His name was Mikey, average looking white boy who due to his standing on the team felt he had the right to say whatever he wanted. I actually thought he was cool initially until this day when he proved me terribly wrong. I heard him use the word ni**er over and over while he was talking to another guy on the team. While everyone else seemed to think it was ok, I couldn’t take it. It was as if something extremely sharp was piercing my ear every time I heard the word come out of his mouth. After about the fourth or fifth time hearing him say it, I simply couldn’t take it anymore. I told him he should watch his mouth and be a little more understanding to his environment and respect the black kids on the team. He basically told me I should shut up and he’d say what he wanted and I shouldn’t be offended unless I am indeed a ni**er. Within seconds somehow my combination lock found its way to the upper part of his forehead. I hit Mikey in his face over and over again with that lock until I could no longer tell what complexion he was due to the blood that covered his face. To me that made us even. I never had any conversations with Mikey after that incident, but I’d be willing to bet my last he never used that word again.

I got into it with everybody, it became an everyday thing. Whether it was with kids from other schools, boys on my basketball team or sometimes even friends. Another true lesson on friends came from a kid Named Jason Muller. He was one of the first kids I met when I actually begin going to class instead of I.S.S. Jason was different from the other kids I’d previously met in Colorado, he had more personality. He was a tall, strong, and light skinned kid with a flat top. He had bumps on his face and braces in his mouth but by no means did it hinder his performance with the ladies. He was definitely a ladies man, and I believe it was because of his sense of humor, he was a funny guy. Jason, another Spanish kid named Jose and myself were the life of the party in construction class. Jose was a fair skinned chubby Spanish kid who seemed to always be in some type of mischief. We stayed in trouble, but it was all in fun, it felt good to have somewhat of a crew. As time went on Jay and I became closer and eventually hung out outside of school. We practically did everything together, sports, pranks, fights, and all the other things thirteen and fourteen year old kids do. In hanging out with Jay, I began to meet other people threw him. One of those people was a girl named Noel Cedana. Noel was bad! I immediately developed a crush on that girl. It was at this point in my life I realized I had a thing for Spanish girls, and that thing would never go away. Noel just had it all to me, pretty, smart, and popular. She was light skinned with long hair and the prettiest smile. I remember she used to always wear these shorts to school and every time she did I wondered what I did to deserve that. I made up my mind that Noel would be my girlfriend and that was it, nothing would stop me. Jay filled my head with all the lines about how everybody liked Noel and I didn’t stand a chance, and all the other things jealous males say when they realize you can accomplish something they can’t. His advice would only fuel me and the chase was on. I started talking to her and at first she brushed me off, but eventually she gave in and gave me a chance. Before you knew it, I was getting love letters before every eighth period. So that was it, I had a girlfriend, and hopefully someone who could help me deal with some of the complexities that lived inside of me. I remember this being a good time in my life, I was happy and felt I had found a lot of what I was searching for. I felt as if I had a purpose and I belonged, unfortunately like most other things in life that feeling wouldn’t last long.

Chapter 16 (Betrayal)

I was happy to have a best friend and even happier to have a girlfriend. As tough as I proclaimed to be, in having this company, I realized just how much I missed it. Staying to yourself all of the time wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be, and I missed the interaction. I became real close to Jay and even closer to Noel, it was good, while it lasted. Eventually my ride on cloud nine would be cut short by the realities of how foul some people could be. While walking out of construction class one day, Jose approached me in front of the lockers and told me he had to talk to me about Jay. He told me Jay had been trying to talk to Noel behind my back and he felt like it was something I should know. I thought it was a joke and immediately went into denial. He ruined any chance I had at vacating in my denial phase by showing me letters Jay and Noel had been exchanging for the last few weeks. Apparently he stole those letters from Jay’s bag, and could no longer keep the truth from me. He’d been telling me for weeks that Jay was full of it, and honestly I thought he was just jealous of our relationship. Plus Jose smoked more weed then anybody I knew and I couldn’t remember too many times he was sober, not exactly a trustworthy source. Yet he was right, there was no denying it, the truth was right in front of me and I had all the proof I needed. Jay had been writing my girl love letters and poems for months and smiling in my face while doing it. Even worse Noel was writing him back. Granted in her notes she was making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, she still continued to write him, and kept it from me. I felt the least she could have done was tell me that my best friend was full of it. I felt betrayed, it was a feeling I didn’t like, but it was also a feeling I would become all too familiar with. I tried to approach her about the situation immediately but I couldn’t find her. I didn’t want anyone to know I was looking for her, because I didn’t want her to know that knew. Jay was absent that day and we’d already planned on me spending the night at his house that weekend, I didn’t break the plans. Later that day I went to his house as I said I would. He answered the door as if nothing was different, I guess in his head nothing was. As soon as I walked in his house I was disturbed, but surprisingly it wasn’t because of the thoughts in the back of my head. The house was filthy, and there was dog sh*t everywhere, I mean everywhere! The smell was so bad I couldn’t focus on my thoughts. As soon as you walked into his house you could either go downstairs or upstairs and the carpet was a dirty blue. The walls were off white and seemed to be scuffed and dented in various places. We went downstairs to his room and it wasn’t much different, I decided there was no way in hell I could sleep there anyway. His bed was on the floor and his room was the size of an average closet. It was dog crap all over his carpet as well and the dog who I assume was responsible for the crap was laying on his bed. I tried to hold my feelings in just to see how long he would fake it, this is when I discovered I don’t have the ability to do that. When something’s on mind I have to say it, I hide nothing, I don’t know how. So I came out with it: “Yo, when the hell were you going to tell me that you trying to get at my girl b?” He responded, “What are you talking about?” Before he could even get into his academy award winning denial role, I shoved all of the letters in his face. I told him the only thing shi**ier then his excuse was his carpet. That led to yelling, which eventually led to pushing and then I snuffed him. Pow! The fight led from his room to the laundry room which was right outside his door. I landed a good one and he feel right in-between his washer and dryer, I washed him. I punched him and kept punching him until his older brother came downstairs. His brother pulled me off him with one hand and then shoved me into the door. Jay was already big, but his brother was twice his size, that was a fight I didn’t really want at the time. I was hoping his brother would understand my point of view, he didn’t, but fortunately he didn’t want to fight me either, just wanted me to leave. That was an awkward moment, I stood there and watched Jay wipe the blood and bits of dog sh*t off his face and then decided it was time leave. My work was done. Jay and I wouldn’t speak again until a few years later, around the time he threatened to kill me.

Noel tried to patch things up between us by apologizing and proclaiming her innocence. While the thought of us working things out seemed nice, the damage was done. I’d got my first true taste of betrayal, and it was something that seemed to happened one friend after another for the next four years. Throughout high school, I made quite a few more friends who would all turn on me. I couldn’t understand it, why me? I was the most honest and loyal person I knew by far. I would never turn on a friend, ever, under any circumstances. Yet it seemed they stabbed me in the back every chance they got. It made me cold, again. That kid was coming back and this time that kid was wiser, stronger, and sharper. That made me vicious, I became an animal. This is where my trust issues truly begin, I could never trust anybody. I was best friends with this short, dark skinned kid named Jake until he tried to fight me while he was drunk at a party. I was the only person ever there for him when his family died and he turned on me because he thought I was talking about him. I never would. Big Mike was another best friend of mine, and he seemed like the type of person who would never hurt anybody. Tall, light skinned skinny guy, who stole my chain out of my locker during basketball practice. Took me weeks to find out who did it, being I would of never suspected it was my best friend. The same best friend who I told how much that chain meant to me and how it reminded me of a fallen family member. I’d end up beating him like he stole something……..He did. Next I became good friends with these two kids named Jalil and Brandon. Jalil was a short smooth talking kid who ended up sleeping with a girl he was supposed to be trying to hook me up with. Brandon was taller and bigger kid who tried to stab me while I was sleep during an out of town basketball tournament. He would of succeeded, if I wasn’t awoken by the bus hitting a bump in the road at the moment I saw him standing over me with a knife. My next friend was Joe Mac. That was my partner in crime, we did it all together for years. I was probably closer to him then any of the guys mentioned before. Joe was a short, good looking kid with a real sense of humor. Real clean cut kid who seemed to get everything he wanted since birth. We had a lot in common and seemed to hit it off from the jump, I had his back and he had mine. I remember one time this gang member was going to kill him because he destroyed the guy’s property. The gang member was well known and fortunately for Joe I knew the dude and put my a** on the line to save his. Rather then kill both of us he decided to give Joe an opportunity to pay him back. This situation was one of many, you would think Joe would of felt obligated to hold me down for life. Well if you thought that, you’d be wrong. Eventually he tried to sleep with the girl who became my first. Did it in great fashion too, even had his father talk to her about how much better off she would be with him. At that point all I could do was laugh, I couldn’t let these people get to me anymore. I couldn’t understand it, but I decided I wouldn’t try to. A man like me wasn’t meant to have a lot of friends in his life, a man like me was supposed to only believe in his self. So that’s what I set out to do, I no longer believed any good could possibly come out of trusting someone as a friend. I kept that mindset for quite some time, and never let anybody else in. Anytime I felt somebody could be real, I fought it, never let anybody get close up until the day I heard about this new kid from Connecticut. I heard we were a lot alike and we should meet, but I didn’t feel the need to meet him, didn’t really care to. However, regardless of how I felt towards this meeting of east coast rebels, it appeared to have already been in the works. I would come to find that God had a plan for me, and this new kid and I would cross paths regardless of if I wanted us to or not. I would also come to find that when we did my life and my attitude would be changed forever.

Chapter 17 (Art and War)

It was at this point my life I began to change drastically, some for the better and some for the worse. The good news was I met friends who appeared to be worth the failed friendships I experienced in the past, the bad news was I developed habits that would scar me for life. It started in the lunch room, an average day which appeared to be leading to an average ending. My steps were ordered and the first step was meeting this kid I’d heard so much about. I was sitting at a table surrounded by the girls I usually spend most of my time with, when he approached the table and we were introduced. I didn’t like him. It wasn’t personal I didn’t like anybody I first met, wasn’t really into making friends. The difference was it didn’t seem like he liked me either, I respected that. We passed each other a few times throughout the day from that point on, but both of us seemed to be too prideful to actually start a conversation. One day he decided to swallow that pride, and I’d end up being forever grateful. I remember sitting on a bench outside of the school, it was the last period and that’s where anybody who was anybody usually was. That’s when this kid decided to approach me and started talking to me. He told me his name was Kevin and that he moved to Colorado from Connecticut. Said he hated it so far and wished he could go back, I could relate. Before I knew it we were deep in a conversation, rapping about everything from life, girls, school and music. He told me he wrote rhymes and asked if I’d ever written anything. I thought it was funny he asked, see I still wrote my thoughts on paper every now and then, but no where near as often as I used to. I told him I did but it was nothing serious. Next thing I know he was telling me about how he recorded his music at times and he had a group called lost souls. I thought the idea of having a tape and actually recording your vocals was dope, I never considered that. He said he wanted to start throwing rhymes at each other and I told him I was with it. I thought to myself I’d been writing for about four years at that point and I never really let anybody hear what I wrote. First rhyme I spit to him he thought it was incredible. I remember him telling me: “Yo son you got serious talent b, and I don’t even think you know it. You need to start taking this seriously, you can go somewhere with it.” I thought he was fronting, I didn’t really think too much of it, but it did encourage me to write more. Next thing I know I was in Kevin’s garage making song after song on his Karaoke machine, and a passion was born. Within a weeks time I probably had enough music to make a double album. Every day I went to Kev with a new verse, like “Son what you think about this?” That was it, he discovered my talent, and music would become my crutch. Music would guide me through all the dark corners I would soon be forced to turn in my life. It gave me an unbelievable feeling, a feeling I’d never experienced. It was therapeutic, gave me a sense of release and made me feel as if the dark days I’d experienced in the past weren’t in vain. The same feeling I got when I was younger, just on a different level. Creating music made me feel even better then listening to it. Made me feel like the same way other songs saved me and got me through tough times, I could now do that for somebody else. I was also enamored by the fact that when you create a song, minutes before you created it, that song didn’t exist. It made me feel like I was bringing something to the table that the world had never seen, I was. I tackled the art of rhyming over a beat quick, that came natural. The actual art of creating a hook and letting the beat talk to me would come later, but I was just happy to be recording. I wanted to record as often as I could. I became a fiend and Kev was on board with everything I wanted to do. He studied my rhymes and helped me make adjustments to become a better rapper. See the punch lines were natural, it was clear I had a mind like no other, but at that time I had no idea how to flow. Kev taught me about cadence, taught me how to flow. Showed me how to put my words together and let them come off naturally in an appealing sequence. We spent hours working on my music, and before you knew it we developed a bond that was indestructible. We became a team and decided we would tackle this music thing together. He came up with the name “Team Wreck” and decided that we would let that name define us. Little did we know we were forming a lot more then a team in music, we were forming a team in life. I kept spitting and L.B. kept teaching, before you knew it he created a monster, an artist was born. It was around this time we met another guy name Tayvon. He quickly became a part of the click and became just as close to me as Kev had became. We were like the three musketeers, we did everything together. Tayvon brought structure to the click, he brought happiness. You couldn’t be around that dude without laughing, I loved him for that. I needed that more then he would ever know. Tay loved my music just as much as Kev did and that gave me a fan base. More then anything it gave me confidence and motivated me. On top of being witty, I’ve always had a good sense of humor, Tay used to always talk to me about battling kids. At first it didn’t seem like such a great idea, but as time went by he eventually got the best of me. I saw kids battling in the school all the time and I felt like it was shameful, I could do so much better. Eventually word got around the school that I made music. Kev and Tay were passing tapes around and I became known more for my music then my basketball talents. It wouldn’t be long before I got my first challenge, somebody always wants to steal your light, in this case it was Gee. This dude was from GW, which was a school with a bad reputation, and their students were just supposed to be tougher then ours. I was in the lunch room one day when this dude decided to call me out, and that decision he would later regret. I remember feeling nervous before the battle, it was my first one and I wasn’t sure how it would turn out. I felt I had a lot on the line, a reputation was hard to earn in high school, but it only took a minute to lose it. I was nervous, all the way up until I heard Gee start rapping, the was the first and last time I would ever be nervous before a battle. Before I knew it, it was my turn and the lunch room became filled with kids from the school. So with the lunch room at capacity, and it still being as quite as a library, my heart creating its on beat pounding through my chest. A moment of silence went by, and then I started spitting. I quickly discovered another talent, I could freestyle, really well. Before I could even get through my fourth bar the lunch room went crazy! Kids were yelling and grabbing my shirt, it felt damn good, a moment I would cherish. Gee thought it was a fluke and wanted to go again, I obliged. The second round was worse then the first, I destroyed that man. From that point it was on, I was battling different kids every week. I felt like a star, I used to fill the lunch room up like it was a concert. I battled somebody different every Friday, and the school was well aware of that. It became so crazy we started doing it outside. The was a space in between the doors exiting the building of my high school and we called it the breezeway. When I battled in there you couldn’t move. I battled any and everybody, even went to different schools to bite heads off over there. I became a beast, and I battled dudes until there was no one left. In the mist of battling I made friends and I made enemies, even ended up fighting a few competitors. The one thing I never did was lose and that’s when I knew my talents were serious. I no longer saw music as just a hobby, it became a lifestyle. Eventually Kev and I moved up in the world and left the karaoke machine behind. We started recording in his studio that his pops built in his basement. I finally had my music on CD, and before you knew it, I made a name for myself. The And 1 tour played a big part in that, that was my first taste of fame and I loved it. That And 1 players were in town and Benz was hosting a half time battle session. Benz was a well known rapper, he’d already made it, that’s where I wanted to be. I was going to the game but had no idea that there was a battle going on. I found out as soon as I arrived when I saw hundreds of people surrounding a stage. Benz was on stage and he was calling people out for the battle. Kev looked at me like “Son you got to do it.” I said “Hell no, I ain’t come here for that.” Quite honestly I was a little nervous but more so just wasn’t in the mind state to compete. I’d learn that this was one of my drawbacks and as a hip hop artist you have to be prepared to go to war on any given Sunday. I didn’t have that fire….Yet. So I told Kev I wouldn’t do it and went to the bathroom, when I came back he was on stage. I approached the stage thinking “what the hell is this dude doing,” he was being him. That’s the type friend he was, always willing to sacrifice for someone else. He battled some kid and won, I was proud to see how fearless he was. In the next round he battled somebody else and lost, but in the end he won every battle because he accomplished his mission. After losing to the second kid, he looked at Benz and said “Yo honestly I ain’t up here for me man, I got a cousin in the crowd that’s here right now and I guarantee he will rip anybody in this arena.” His point was made, before I knew it he was pointing at me and the people who were familiar with me in the crowd were chanting my name. I had no choice, it was showtime. I finally got on the stage and he put the first competitor in front of me, I destroyed him. Then he made me battle two more people, same result. I had the crowd going crazy, that feeling came back to me, but this time it was magnified. Before long 30 seconds wasn’t enough, I wanted to rhyme all night, I would get that chance. After I won the third battle, Benz told me he wanted me to rap at halftime at center court. He said I’d have to battle two contestants, each in a two round battle. I was with it, but then he told me I had to sit with the DJ and I couldn’t bring Kev with me. I told him “Yo if Kev ain’t coming, I ain’t coming.” He responded “Come on man I can only have the contestants down there and you could win a trip to New York, a thousand dollars and a record deal.” I told him I was from New York, and basically repeated myself, its all or none. He finally folded and let me bring Kev with me, we prepared for war. See Kev was more then like a brother, he was my mentor musically, it wasn’t the same and I just wasn’t motivated without him. So in my biggest battle on my biggest stage, I needed him there more then ever, period. Throughout the first half of the game I couldn’t even focus, I don’t think I saw one dunk. I was so focus on what was about to take place, I couldn’t watch the game. I just got a call that my family was coming and I knew this was time to shine. My parents knew I wrote, because my mother used to always see me walking around with my little notebook, but she had no idea how serious or how talented I was. Little did she know, she was bout to find out. When half time came Kev had me ready, I was prepared to rhyme all night. The spot light came on and they called my name. “From Brooklyn New York, Young Moe!” They introduced my competitor and it was time to battle. The first round came, I went in! The crowd went crazy. I remember being a little concerned before the battle began, I didn’t feel like since my first battle back in the lunch room. I wasn’t really nervous, just could tell I was on a different stage. I was in front of about 16,000 people, I’d say it was a little different. The butterflies didn’t last long though, as soon as I grabbed the Mic it all went away, I felt right at home. The crowd began cheering my name in sequence and it was at that moment I knew this was what I wanted to do forever. Before long it was time for the championship. It was some kid from Harlem, he wouldn’t make it. We battled the first two rounds and it was no contest, it was clear I was the winner. It was supposed to be over, but the weird thing was they made us battle two more rounds. By the fourth round I was running out of things to talk about, my material was fading. I held it together though and came out victorious. I’d come to learn that there may be no better feeling then 16,000 people screaming your name, its incredible. I spent the entire second half of the game being a celebrity, guys wanted my autograph and girls wanted my number. It was crazy, I had my Pop in front of me pushing people off me while I signed everything from basketballs to breast. This was a feeling I could get used to. I’d made a name for myself and getting a record deal was no longer a dream, it was a goal. At the end of the game I went into the back room and met with Benz. It was there I was promised money, a trip to New York, a trip to the Source Awards, and a record deal. I was told I would be contacted in a week or so with the information. I would never hear from Benz again.

Chapter 18 (Steal A Victim)

As it turned out, Benz and his click were running a scam. See the kid that I battled from Harlem was actually a part of his crew and was never supposed to lose the battle. I think they went from state to state and ran the same b.s to promote his album. They never anticipated the dude losing, that was just my luck. Well he lost to me and they never actually planned on giving me anything they promised. That was my first lesson in the game, I got a taste of how the industry really is, it was a preview for what was to come. While my music was improving and beginning to flourish, I was starting to spiral out of control. I was having trouble dealing with the disappointment of not getting a deal and the everyday disappointments of life. At this point I’d developed a click of my own which was pretty damn strong. There was quite a few of us. There was me, Kev, Tay, Dolla, Lenny, West, Black, and a few other dudes who came around every once in a while. Lenny, West, and Black had been best friends since they were kids and I fit right into the click with them. They became a part of my team and it was like we knew each other forever. They were all short, dark skinned and muscular. All athletes, we’d end up growing up together. At that time I was close to everybody in the click but closest to Kev, Tay and Dolla. Dolla was Spanish and had an edge that reminded me of the one I possessed. He was tough, bald headed and medium built, also the best dressed Spanish kid I knew. He used to always tell me about his brother who was locked up, said he always felt like we would get along. He used to always say his brother and I were the same in a lot of ways and he never really respected any of Dolla’s friends. Dolla had a click of his own and they all seemed to be into anything that was negative. He was always around this skinny light skinned kid named Tone and this white boy named Jake. In hanging out with Dolla, I found myself hanging out with them quite often. Dolla felt like something was different about me though, I promised when his brother came home I would hold him down, I kept my word. In the mean time I was running the streets with Dolla and his click, seem like we were always getting into some kind of mischief. If I wasn’t writing, I was fighting, if I was fighting I was stealing. We were all basically with anything that had to do with getting money. Dolla and Tone were constantly hustling, selling drugs to whoever needed it. I liked that they were getting money so I helped out every now and then. It seemed like I was constantly around the drugs so I figured hell I might as well get some money too if I’m going to be here. I never got into doing drugs though, it seemed like they were high all the time but I never really smoked. Even in my wildest of times I had some type of righteousness in me. Half the time I felt like because we got into so many fights and got so many death threats I never wanted to be high when something went down. I never really got into selling the drugs like my boys did either, I was more into stealing. I hadn’t stole anything in years, but before I knew it, I got that urge again. Tay did a lot of the stealing with me, we used to get it in. I started off just stealing out of peoples bags, and snatching things off people at different places. The same things I did when I was kid. Then one day I got my hands on a lock cutter and it was over, we hit the jackpot. We used to go to recreation centers and break into every locker we could. Every time we did it we left with hundreds of dollars in a few minutes. We stole from the lockers at schools too. If we weren’t in somebody’s lockers we were breaking into cars, we even drove a couple of them. I don’t really know why I started stealing again initially, I just felt like it was too easy and I was to smart to get caught.

Once I started stealing I just got used to having the extra money so I kept doing it. Before I knew it we were breaking into houses, and crashing parties just to rob people blind. Kids in Colorado would always throw house parties in these huge houses while their parents were away. That was better then a garage sale. We used to leave with money, jewelry, games and furniture. A few times I even took computers. Looking back, thinking about all the things I’ve taken from people makes me sick honestly, and I’ve come to learn that Karma is a bi*ch. But it is what it is, this is my reality and it’s a reality many kids are faced with, trust me, its not worth it. The more we stole the more money we got and the more ruthless I became. I was stealing peoples sneakers out of their lockers and selling them back to them. I’m sure you can imagine a few people wanted to kill me for that. We even stole from schools during basketball season when we had away games. Slowly but surely my attitude was beginning to ruin my basketball career. I was more concerned with getting money and chilling with crew then playing ball and it started to show. I remember one specific game we were playing against our rivals at Overmills. We hated them and they hated us, that became obvious when we almost fought during pregame warm ups. Well when the game started there was no almost, we got it in. I went up for a rebound and got fouled real hard, the Overmills player and I both fell to the floor. I got up and kicked him in his face and a team fight transpired. The fight made the paper, it was the first time I would be in the paper for basketball. It was also the first time I’d let my temper effect my love for the game, but it wouldn’t be the last. My coach made me run until I threw up, I begin to love basketball less and less by the day. I was very talented, but hated the fact that we lost so much, and hated the fact that the coaches wouldn’t let me play my game. We had terrible coaches and I allowed them to strip away the admiration I had for the game. It wasn’t all their fault though, I was just in a bad place mentally. Ironically the same sport that kept me out of trouble, was the same sport that would get me into it. My stealing grew out of control and I became sloppy, I lost track of all the rules I set for myself. In reality it just became too easy. I used to keep that lock cutter in this hole on top of the lockers, only thing was I hated having to reach back there to get it out every time. So I got lazy and left it out just a little bit, apparently that little bit was enough for my coaches to find it. Rather then confiscate it, they set me up, they left it there and waited to see who would come get it. Yep, I was the rat coming for the cheese, they got me. As soon as I pulled the lock cutter out from the hole, the lights popped on and teachers, coaches and counselors came from every angle. My first thought was “Damn how long have they been waiting in the dark for me to come get this.” Nonetheless it didn’t matter, I was caught and I got arrested. I was supposed to be starting in my first varsity game, but instead I was in handcuffs being questioned about missing product. The cops told me the school reported that over 2,000 dollars in property had gone missing over the last few weeks and they had every reason to believe I was to blame. I mean they didn’t really need Sherlock Holmes for this one, but I figured I’d plead my case anyway. I told them that was my first time finding the lock cutter and it was brought to my attention earlier by a friend. I was just pulling it out to see what the hell it was and why it was on top of my locker. They didn’t believe me, but they couldn’t prove otherwise so they had to let me go. I was just happy I didn’t have to spend the night, not because it was jail but more so because I didn’t have to tell my parents. Job well done, I dodged that bullet. A few days later I was back in practice, running again, until I threw up……again. I stopped stealing after that, I felt like that was my wake up call, I decided that was it, I needed to get myself together. In the mist of all of that I was in my first real relationship, Dolla’s brother Raymond came home and Kev and Tay had become like brothers to me. I developed a relationship with Raymond that was just as strong as Dolla anticipated it would be. I felt like I finally had the brothers I always wanted. The vision Kev and I had of forming a super squad had finally come true, Wreck Boys were here. I found myself in a relationship with a girl named Alyysa who I’d been friends with for years. She was brown skinned and athletic, cute, smart, and most importantly trustworthy. Everything was good with my girlfriend and everything was good with my family. I was working at a fast food spot and I’d just got accepted into college. Things were looking up and I was happy, I felt like I was on top of the world. Unfortunately they say there’s only one way to go when your on top, I was soon to find that’s damn true.

Chapter 19 (The Devils Door)

My summer going into college was a crazy summer, a lot of ups and downs. I was floating high off of getting accepted into college and seeing my parents so happy. I thought about the time my father told me I would never graduate from college, I knew this was the first step to making him eat that comment. I got my grades up my senior year in high school and was focus on going into college with a clear mind. That was the plan, but I came across a few distractions that would make that difficult. That summer I started to see a change in Tay and it wasn’t really a good one. He didn’t seem to be himself and it scared me. He would constantly tell me about the problems he had with his family and I realized it started taking a serious toll on him. All that time everything we went through, we went through together. I think he got a little scared when he realized I would be leaving. I never told him, but I was a little scared too, leaving my family, him and Kev behind wouldn’t be easy. I mean they were the only real friends I ever had. He never really let me see it though, he was more happy that I got accepted into college then I was. I remember when I told him, he was at work, he jumped over the counter at Sandwich Stop and grabbed me smiling from ear to ear. He kept saying “I’m so happy for you son, we made it.” See he appreciated my accomplishments as if they were his own, we experienced everything together. When I hurt he hurt, when I felt joy, he felt joy. That’s how it was for us and that’s how it was with Kev. I remember one late night I got into a beef with a few Spanish dudes who tried to jump me outside of Burger World. It was a pretty brutal battle, knives were involved and somehow a few people in the fight got stabbed. What I remember more then the fight itself though was Tay’s reaction to it. When he saw what happened, I remember him coming to tears. I had blood all over me and was limping and told him I thought the cops would be looking for me. Even more then the fact that I was hurt he was concerned with me throwing my life away. He felt like with all that I just accomplished, like getting accepted into College I just threw it all way over a fight. Though it wasn’t my fault and I had no choice in the matter he was disappointed in me like a parent would be. In that moment I discovered what friendship truly was, he was as real as it got. He cared about me more then he cared about himself, and for that I would be forever grateful. That fight not only showed me how much of a true friend I had, but coincidentally it also brought me and Kev back together. A few months before that fight Kev and I fell out over his new girlfriend. I couldn’t stand that chick, Tay couldn’t either. Simply put if you loved him, it was hard to love her. She was everything I felt a real girl shouldn’t be and a terrible influence on his life. He changed when she came around and it was obvious. I remember he stopped coming around and he stopped going to class. I remember driving by the school one day on my off hour and seeing him sitting with her ditching class, that wasn’t like him. I used to see her flirting with other dudes and everybody around the school used to comment on how she was popping with other people. I’m not much of rumor guy so I never got too much involved, but it became a little hard to ignore after the day I saw her sneak a guy in her house. At that point it was pretty much war, I knew her intentions were bad and I wanted to expose her. The only problem was I expected my brother to be on my side once the war started, I was wrong. See I’d never learned the lesson that when a man is in love nothing will come in-between that, not even a brother. Kev already had a daughter and I saw how hard he had to work just to provide her with everything he wanted her to have. I figured his girl would have saw that like I did. Again, I was wrong. So now Kev was having another child with a woman I’d proven time and time again was full of sh*t. In the end it didn’t matter, I didn’t stand a chance. It was so many lessons to be learned from this experience I couldn’t even wrap my head around it all. I couldn’t believe that he would push me to side for a chick that appeared to have nothing but bad intentions for him. Especially after all we’d been through at that point. I realized then you cant come in between a person and their mate, you’ll lose every time. Love is blind and people don’t see the truth when their in it, they see what they want to see. I decided I would never be that person, ever. No girl would every have my nose so wide open that it covered my eyes. I lived in reality, I was comfortable there. I also decided I would never let a woman come between me and my brothers. There should be a balance and never a choice, if she couldn’t understand that, it would be a problem. I also decided to never trust another man completely, so long as he is a man he still had weakness’, and woman is definitely one of them. It wasn’t all Kev’s fault though, I put him on a pedestal and got mad at him for falling. A man is going to be a man, you have to expect that. At the end of the day it was all just more lessons in life, hard lessons, but lessons nonetheless. Kev and I didn’t really speak for weeks, I figured that was the end of our relationship. It wasn’t until that fight that we started speaking again. Unfortunately, in life sometimes it takes a negative situation to bring people together again. Yet in this situation it could have been worse, it could have been a funeral. In the mist of that I was also learning lessons with my girlfriend Alyssa.

We’d been going through a rough patch every since she heard about my little escapade at the swimming pool. See I attended this pool party and we’d been basically drowning every since. It wasn’t the pool party that hindered our relationship though, it was the pretty young lady at the pool party, Alasia Jones. Alasia was gorgeous, I used to think she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She was light skinned with dimples and freckles. She had long black hair, and the prettiest smile you would ever see. See I had crush on Alasia for years, since eighth grade to be specific. She was the girl everybody in the school liked, but nobody ever seemed to get. We played a cat and mouse game for years and nothing ever came of it. Every time I actually went in she wasn’t having it, but I knew she liked me, it was weird. We would hang out all the time, but nothing would ever happen, I think that’s why I liked her. At the pool party the results were the same, nothing happen, but somehow Alyssa got a different story. There were a few of us at that pool party, everybody had on bathing suits, and we were young, so you know the drill. I had thoughts, but I didn’t follow through on any of them though, I called myself being a good boyfriend. See the chemistry between Alasia and I was always there, only difference was this time I had a girlfriend. I’d never been tempted like that before, but I succeeded, I did what I felt was right. In the end none of that mattered, once Alyssa found out we were both at the pool party and heard that we were engaged in “deep” conversations, it was over. She needed nothing more to turn us off, I was cut. I kept calling but all I ever got was her brother answering and hanging up on me. I was crushed, I felt like I did what was right, and still took the ultimate fall. I regretted my decision and wished I’d given her a reason to be mad. I learned then that the worse thing you can do to an innocent man is accuse him, and woman are going to be mad at you regardless. Feeling that way would come to haunt me later, and so would Alasia. Between having no girlfriend, the fall out with Kev and Tay changing on me I fell into a dark place again. A place filled with anger, confusion, and violence. It was around this time I started getting visions of death. I didn’t know why, but they kept coming every day. Whether they came in the form of a nightmare, or I was just sitting around day dreaming. I kept seeing myself die in a variety of different ways and I couldn’t make sense of it. Sometime I couldn’t ignore them, the dreams and the visions were so real. I was forced to pay attention and I began to prepare for my demise. The worst part about having these visions was I never shared them with anybody. I couldn’t tell my family because, well I didn’t tell my family much, and I never wanted them to worry. I couldn’t tell Kev because we were still shaky, and I couldn’t tell Tay because he worried to much. So I kept them to myself, but it was scary I genuinely felt the end could be near. It was then I started to reflect upon my life. I realized I’d made a lot poor decisions and got myself into a lot of unnecessary trouble. My parents moved me to a much better place and I should of learned to use that to my advantage. I was around the corner from going to college and it was about time I became responsible and lived up to my potential. I needed to take care of my responsibilities, I needed to be a better person. That was my plan, but unfortunately the devil had a different one. It was then I realized that for quite some time I’d been knocking on the devils door, well little did I know, he was about to answer.

Chapter 20 (School Of Hard Knocks)

It seemed like the moment I decided to stay away from trouble, trouble decided to turn it up a notch. I thought at that point in my life I’d been through something, I was about to find out I hadn’t. To me you don’t know what its like to live until you’ve starred death in the face. A near death experience can change someone’s attitude toward life in an instance, I was about to find out first hand. My first year of College was a tough one, one of the worse years of my life in fact. They say these are supposed to be the best years of your life, well they were definitely some of the worse in mine. In my first year I realized quick that college was nothing like I thought it would be. I figured it would be a far cry from high school and everybody would be on a completely different level, I was wrong. It was a lot of the same, just on a bigger stage, at least my college was. OLDU was a predominately white school with a good amount of black students. It seemed as if all of the black students knew each other and everything got around just as quick as it did in high school. Everybody was trying to capture an identity that they struggled to possess in their high school years. This was their chance to be somebody new, the person they always wanted to be. That made everybody fake, and I noticed it immediately. There was more tough guys in college then I could remember in high school, I was shocked. I thought I’d grown past all that non-sense, but I’d come to find I was far from it. Within a month of being a freshman at OLDU I ruined my chances of playing basketball. I was in a new state at a new school and I had a bunch of new ambitions. I wanted to try to get my love for ball back and play at the college level. That was always my dream, and I went to practices and workouts to make it happen. Competing with the guys at that level was nothing, I felt the difference but it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, I knew I could be a star. I’d never get a chance to prove that though, I would let my temper get the best of me as I’d done so many times in the past, and fall victim to my own shortcomings once again.

It was the first party of the year, a party everybody who was anybody would attend. It was almost like an interview, an opportunity to make your first impression a lasting one. At that point I had made a few friends, nothing major, I was still an outcast. I more so hung out with these three guys name Curt, Brent, and Dante. I still didn’t trust people and I missed my gang back home, but I figured these dudes would do in the mean time. I held them down the same way I would of held my brothers down though, loyal, that’s all I knew how to be. Curt was a light skinned, big head kid from California. Medium build with huge lips and a short hair cut. He had a few female tendencies but I was able to look past that due to the fact that I didn’t have many friends in school at the time. Brent was taller, he was taller then me, brown skinned and skinny. Pretty boy from Chesapeake who was always trying to take somebody’s girl. He was funny as hell though and we used to have mad fun together when we partied. Dante was also tall, he was bigger though, brown skinned, and medium build with waves. I was closer to him then the other guys. The party was crazy and I was enjoying myself, my first college party and I wasn’t disappointed. We were inside this huge activity room, the music was loud and there were girls everywhere. I had every reason to feel good about the situation that I was in, until I glanced to my left and saw Curt face to face with this tall big guy. I saw them arguing with each other and it was obvious they were about to fight. I knew that would get bad for Curt, that wasn’t his thing. So I didn’t hesitate, I ran over and immediately tried to diffuse the situation. I jumped in the middle of the argument and moved Curt out of the way. The guy that was in his face shoved me, and for that split second I lost it, boom! I snuffed him, caught him clean, he fell. Next thing I know there was dudes coming at me from all angles, I felt like I punched the President. A melee ensued and I got jumped on, there were fist flying from everywhere. Before any damage could really be done though, most of the guys were getting pulled off me. Fortunately for me it was a fraternity party and the frat didn’t plan on having a fight ruin it for everybody. They were pulling dudes off me left and right, and I was grateful. One of the Frat members was this short, muscular brother with glasses named Alex. I don’t even think he realized that he saved me at the time, but we’d end up becoming pretty close later that year. The good thing was I was saved before things got really ugly, the bad thing was half those guys ended up being members of the basketball team. Turns out the guy I hit was one of the players on last years team, my luck struck again. I was no longer under the radar, it felt like everybody knew me now and not for anything good. I was pretty much hated by everybody within the basketball organization and eventually the word got to the coach that I was the star behind the fight. It wasn’t fair, but it was what it was, my chances at playing ball were shot. At this point it felt like high school all over again, within a month of being in the school, I’d made enough enemies to last a lifetime. One of the guys in the scuffle was this kid from L.A named Darryl. He was the typical tough guy trying to gain a rep for himself his first year in college. Short, light skinned kid, with a little size and a lot of tattoos. We seemed to develop a little rivalry that was damn near Yankees/Redsox. We’d meet a few more times before he finally left the school, it was never pretty when we did. I lost a few more friends due to that scuffle as well, not because something happened to them, but because they didn’t help. Ironically, Curt and I wouldn’t remain friends throughout the duration of the school year either, but ill get more into that later. From that point on it seemed like the stage was set, my luck had not got any better and I felt like things would be the same. Little did I know this was just the surface and things would begin to get a lot worse.

At the end of that semester I went home, it was well needed. I already hated college and missed everything I left at home. It was good to be back around family and friends, but there was one thing that continued to bother me. Tay was beginning to change even more and started hanging out with the wrong crowd. He was getting into fights and dealing with all types of drugs. I told him I didn’t like the dudes he was surrounding himself with and I let the guys he was hanging with know that too. He told me I was bugging and everything was good, I’d just been gone too long and was overacting. I thought maybe he was right so I let it go, but I let him know if I found out he was dealing with them drugs we were going to have a problem. He made me a promise and I that was all I needed, we moved on. Going back to school for the second semester was hard, I felt like if I was going to dropout this was the time to do it. I couldn’t quit though, as much as I wanted to I’ve never been a quitter and I came too far. I knew if I quit I would regret it at some point down the road so I stuck it out. I did alright, I was doing the best I could until the day I got a phone call that would change my life forever.

My Mother called me one day with a tone that I’d never heard before and I Immediately knew that something was wrong. I was sitting in my dorm room with a friend of mine watching television and listening to music. I was actually having a pretty good day. She told me she had some bad news and that I should sit down. I knew somebody died, so I braced myself the best way I could, I just prayed it wasn’t one of my Grandmothers. She couldn’t find enough strength to tell me, so eventually she put one of my friends on the phone. That’s when he said it “Yo Moe, um, Tay died this morning.” I immediately went into a state of shock and was speechless, I felt a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball and a growing knot in my stomach. He kept asking me if I was ok and I couldn’t answer, I just sat there. My Mother got on the phone and apologized and I just asked if they were serious. Once I found out they were I just told her I needed to get off the phone. I sat there in my computer chair for what felt like an eternity but was probably more like an hour. Dante asked me what happen but I didn’t move, I didn’t budge. After about an hour of just sitting in complete silence, it really hit me, I broke. My heart started beating faster then I’d ever felt, and I felt my body getting hot. I started tossing everything in my room and breaking everything next to me. His death hit me harder then anything I’d ever felt and I would never be the same. It was then I realized that all the things he began doing in my absence was a cry for help. He needed me and I wasn’t there for him. He kept it all to himself because he never wanted to jeopardize my future, that’s the type of friend he was. I blamed myself for his death for years, and to an extent sometime I still do. After he passed I just couldn’t pick myself up, I felt like I lost so much. He and Kev were the only two friends I had who loved me unconditionally and half of that was gone. He motivated me to want to be better and saw things in me I couldn’t see in myself. Without him it just felt pointless, it felt like I was finished. To add injury to insult my little Cousin J.R. died a week later. He was killed in a freak accident on a four wheeler. With all the time we spent together as kids during those summers in Virginia I felt like we grew up together. I just got to Virginia and couldn’t wait to catch up with him and recapture that bond we shared. I wouldn’t get that chance. I was back, right back in that dark place I fought so hard to avoid. Apart of me just gave up, I stopped believing and never expected anything good to happen to me. I realized that most of the people I’d loved or confided in ended up disappearing one way or another. So what was the point in loving? From that point on I was just going through the motions, it was clear I wasn’t the same. I’d lost the best friend I ever had and I was dealing with the worse friends I’d ever known. It seems like I was going from friend to friend at this point. Brent ended up sleeping with the first girl I started talking to and Curt was trying to sabotage every relationship I was involved in. I found out Curt was two faced and real jealous. He seemed to like to make other peoples lives miserable so he could feel better about his own. He was envious, started talking about me behind my back, while Brent was doing the same. It felt like Déjà vu, and to think Curt was the same man I ruined my basketball career for, what the hell were friends worth? I’d go onto become friends with a short, dark skinned kid named Jameel who I eventually found out was in the closet and another dark skinned kid with glasses named Paul who turned out to be an habitual liar. Needless to say I didn’t remain friends with either, I ended up beating Paul up outside of the dorms and Jameel’s tendencies began to show and became too much to deal with. Word was going around that he liked me and that’s why he was acting funny all the time, I couldn’t handle that, that didn’t last. For the record Paul started that fight with me, and it just so happen that his girlfriend came outside to witness it and well he never got over that. That wasn’t my fault. I realized then that eventually a person’s true colors will always show, and when someone shows you who they really are you should believe them. I was going through life getting lesson after lesson, just to came to the conclusion that at the end of the day nine out of ten people are full of sh*t. Eventually the truth comes to the surface and in most cases, the truth makes everything else you know seem like a lie. I had trouble coping with that realization and because of that I had trouble trusting people. I set out to be an honest person simply because I felt it was the only commendable way to live. Therefore I was never comfortable in a lie nor did I ever want to find that I was in one. I did however remain friends with the frat member, Alex and I found a new friend in my white boy roommate. His name was Case, he was a real tall white boy, with crazy hair and a distinctive swag. I only mention the fact that he was white because he ended up being like no other white boy I’d ever met. He opened my eyes to a lot of different things I was previously ignorant to. It was amazing how we’d come from such complete different walks of life but had so many things in common. He held me down throughout our entire stay at OLDU and I appreciated that. What I also appreciated was that he helped me rebuild my love for music unknowingly. Between the passing of Tay and being away from Kev I wasn’t as passionate about music as I once was. He had a real passion for hip hop that I’d never seen and introduced me to a rapper named J Biden. Case and J would both inspire me more then ever and I ended up becoming a better artist then I ever thought I could be. I started to get my mind right and get back on a better path slowly but surely through my music. I was starting to get back on the right track, but as he’d done so many times in the past, the devil would crash my party right on time.

Chapter 21(Life And Death)

It was at this point in my life I started having the near death experiences I’d spoken about previously. I’m not exactly sure why they all seemed to happen around the same time, but it definitely made me believe it was for a reason. All those visions I was getting earlier started to make a lot more sense then they did in the past. In the summers when I went home I started to spend more and more time with Dolla and his brother Raymond. Tay was gone and Kev had two kids so they became the brothers I felt I no longer had. We became a hell of a lot closer then I’d ever imagined, I thought I would never trust another soul again. That was until I was placed into a situation where I was forced to, and each time I was glad that soul happened to be Raymond’s. See when Ray came home I think he was searching for something or somebody real. He had just as much trouble trusting people as I did, except for him it may have even been magnified because of the time he spent in prison. He’d lost a lot of friends and family in his time of being incarcerated and found that most dudes didn’t really have what it took to be around him. I’m not sure what he saw in me, but whatever it was he liked it, and he believed in it. See to me Ray was somebody who was real, and raw. He’d been through more then me and dealt with things I couldn’t imagine, but we were cut from the same cloth. So we clicked, and just started running the streets together. I remember one time these two dudes were going to jump me in the parking lot for talking to one of their girlfriends. I had no idea she was taken but once again my luck showed up right on time. Before I could even react Ray punched both of them, it was clear, he was my kind of guy. I got back to my old ways and Ray, Kev, Dolla and I begin running the streets again. While I was in school, they kept hustling and getting money by whatever means necessary. Between that and all the numerous amounts of fights we got into, we quickly developed a reputation. We used to shut parties down, get kicked out of every club and find some type of trouble wherever we went. All the drug dealers that I thought was tough in school, I saw Ray slap around. Cops raided the apartment a few times and we were constantly getting arrested. Turns out I was real lucky to be around Ray for more reasons then safety, every time the cops realized who he was, they let me go. Ray spent months on the run and was constantly going back to prison. Nothing stopped us though, we were living, with an incredible amount of trust and a minimal amount of fear. We were always searching for respect, but eventually it got to the point where we were feared. The feeling didn’t feel too bad, but when your feared, eventually it catches up to you, and It caught up to us quick.

One night Ray decided to bring me back to his old hood for a night out. He’d built a pretty impressive list of enemies over the years but I don’t think he felt it would be a problem. I never thought anything of it, I was just happy to be away from OLDU. We ended up going to this bar around his old way, I can tell we were in the hood. The feel was different, the people were different. The bar was pretty big, it was kind of separated by two different sides. One side was more like a strip club, with tables and a stage with a pole. The other side was more like a bar with tables and a bar filled with drinks. It was pretty dark, and there seemed to be a lot more guys then girls in there. For awhile it was a regular night, we had a few drinks and we were talking and laughing about everyday things. Eventually the conversation would take a turn and Ray’s swagger quickly changed. We were sitting at the bar and he was sitting with his head down, because it appeared he couldn’t look at me in my face. I kept asking him what was wrong but he just kept saying nothing. Once it got to the point where he could no longer deny it, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and expressed that we were in danger. He finally found the strength to talk and basically told me that he was sorry for putting me in this position and he never intended for this to happen. He told me to turn and look at the guys that were standing behind us. I did, there were a lot of them. There were quite a few Spanish guys who were all standing against the wall and seemed to be mostly dressed in black. They appeared to be angry, and a little concerned. He said he had a long going beef with these dudes and they’d been trying to kill each other for years. He said they had quite a few shootouts and he even threw cocktails at their house at one point. At the end of the day he wanted to make it clear that the beef was real, it was present and they were definitely going to try to kill us. I saw the remorse in Ray’s face and I heard the pain in his voice. I could see he was genuinely upset that he put me in that position and I knew he’d be willing to do anything to get me out. I don’t think he knew what to expect from me, honestly I didn’t know what to expect from myself. My thoughts were all over the place and I was simply trying to come up with some type of plan that would guarantee us a safe exit. I sat for a second and pondered in what could have been the last moments of my life. I told Ray I’d be right back and made my way to the bathroom. I reached the bathroom, took a deep breath, collected my thoughts called Kev to explain the situation. I asked him to deliver specific messages to everybody in my family. I wanted everybody to know exactly what happened and exactly how I felt in my last moments. He was screaming on the phone trying to figure out exactly where I was so he could come, but I told him it was no use, we didn’t have the time. I had to leave him hanging, I hung up the phone, stepped out the bathroom and prepared to meet my fate. When I walked back out Ray was still sitting on the stool, I told him I was with whatever and he had no reason to be sorry. I made my peace with who I felt was important and whatever was going to happen from that point on was going happen. It wouldn’t be long before we were approached by a few guys from the click. They came up to us and basically let it be known that they knew we were there and that we wouldn’t be leaving. One showed a weapon and another one just kept barking. They were ready to set it. Ray tried to let them know that the drama had nothing to do with me, but before he could finish something came over me. To this day I don’t know what it was, but It completely took over my body, it was like an out of body experience. I saw pictures of my family in my head and simply decided it wasn’t my time, but if it was I was going out swinging. I stood up and took out the only weapon I had on me, a knife. I basically looked at them all in the eyes and told them lets get it poppin, why wait. I was ready to do whatever needed to be done to walk out that place the same place I came in, alive. There seem to be a shift of momentum after I stood up and spoke my piece, there was some form of retreat. To this day I don’t know why those dudes didn’t decide to go through with putting it to us right there. It must have been something in my eyes, whatever it was it worked. They backed down for the moment and decided to try to give it to us when we got outside. That may have seemed like just as bad a situation but that gave us all the breathing room we needed to sneak out of the bar shortly after. By the time they got around to trying to shoot at us we were gone. Final score, me one, the Devil, zero. You’d be amazed what you can do when you life’s on the line, especially when you think it’s a possibility you will never see your family again. Accepting the fact that your life could end shortly is no picnic, that was a life changing experience. If nothing else, that was when Ray really started to respect me. He would later tell his brother from prison that he felt I saved his life that night and he would forever be grateful, I was pretty grateful myself. The bible says there’s no greater love then the love that would make a man lay down his life for his friends. We were willing to die for each other that night, that was the realest thing I’d ever felt. Needless to say we’d never return to his hood again, but we didn’t have to, the mission was accomplished. We were brothers forever and nothing could come in between that. We seemed to have been lucky that night, or maybe it was divine intervention. Maybe Nana, Tay, J.R. and the rest of my guardian angels played a part in us leaving that bar. Either way we dodged a bullet, unfortunately, we all weren’t able to dodge the next one.

Chapter 22 (A Shot In The Dark)

We all decided to go out one night, Ray, Dolla, Dolla’s friend, and I. It was a great night, one of the few nights where we enjoyed the club without having to fight. It was a really nice night with a nice breeze, the moon was out and so were the woman. The party was over and we were hanging out on the strip, talking to people and doing what we do. Everything was good. I was sitting on a ledge a little bit away from Ray and the guys talking to a friend of mine. They were all talking and laughing and having a good time reminiscing on the night we just had. I looked up and I noticed there were about six dudes walking down the street, they appeared to be really intoxicated and loud. They were walking towards us and for some reason I got a funny feeling in my stomach. I still didn’t think much of it, until I heard one of them say something to Ray. Whatever he said was small, something in the area of “what’s up blood?” However it was still offensive, and it was something you didn’t say to Ray. I looked up and I saw Ray approaching all six of them, I asked the girl I was speaking with to excuse me, I knew this wouldn’t be pretty. I ran over and before I could get there Ray punched one of them in the face and the fight was on. Next thing I knew Dolla punched one and I caught another. They had us outnumbered, so they tried to jump us, but it didn’t seem to be working in their favor. Right when it seemed as if things could not get any worse, out of the corner of my eye I saw Ray stabbing the guy he was fighting in the neck. I saw blood running down that kids shirt, I stopped punching his friend and yelled for Ray to stop. It wasn’t pretty, and apparently the victims friend didn’t think it was either. He backed up and pulled out a shiny black Glock. I saw the darkness from the gun reflect off of his white tee shirt and immediately paused. The only thing darker then that gun was the kids face, and apparently his soul. The next few moments would seem like forever, everything went in slow motion. I remember yelling “Gun! Gun!” But it didn’t matter, Ray kept stabbing that kid. The shooter pointed the gun directly towards me and Dolla and I remember being stuck in my tracks. I felt my heart pound faster then a speeding bullet and my legs felt heavier then ever. The other kid Dolla was with ran and became a ghost in the night. I wanted to move, but my legs wouldn’t let me, nor would my pride. The last thing I remember seeing was the gun pointed at my head, and all of a sudden I felt a hand sort of push me out of the way. I had no idea who’s hand it was, Dolla would later proclaim that it wasn’t his. Next there was a pause, and then all I heard was “Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop!!!” There was a moment of silence as the gun smoke filled the air and then the sounds of feet hitting the concrete at rapid speeds. As the shell casings hit the ground, so did my heart and I. I laid on the ground for what seemed to be an eternity and then looked up, checked myself for blood and asked if everybody was ok. Ray responded and said he was good, I heard nothing from Dolla. I looked over my shoulder and saw Dolla lying there in a pool of blood, I yelled “Dolla!” I didn’t realize he was hit, I didn’t hear him mutter a sound, not an ouch or any other expression of pain. He just looked up at me and said “My brother, we got to get to a hospital.” Ray and I quickly got him to his feet and carried him to the car. Seeing my friend in that way, covered in all that blood took a toll on me. I ended up letting my temper get the best of me again. I yelled at Ray and told him to drive Dolla to the hospital while I chased the guys who did it. They begged me to get in the car but it was no use, I was gone. I sprinted down the block with no gun, and more importantly no common sense. I was hot, and somebody was going to pay. After about three blocks I finally caught up to the assailants. I saw bright lights and it appeared they were already being questioned by the police. To this day I don’t know who was luckier, them or me. I counted my loses and called Kevin and let him know we needed to make it to the hospital. Turns out Dolla took a few bullets and one of them penetrated into one the bones in his foot. The doctor said it was a really good chance he may never walk again. This was a hard time for all of us, seeing Dolla in critical condition. Then seeing him laid up in that hospital bed for weeks at a time. Having to watch him go through physical therapy and practically learning how to walk again. I wished there was something I could do, I hated seeing him like that, and it brought another level of hate into my heart. I knew we’d see them dudes again and I couldn’t wait for the day. I kept having visions of what took place that night, and once again I couldn’t wrap my head around how I got out without a scratch. The last thing I remember seeing was that gun pointed directly at me, and after hearing all the shots I laid there untouched. I just wished I could say the same for Dolla. The hardest part of it all was having to watch his family experience it. Being that I was with him I somewhat felt responsible, so it was hard to look at his mother. Turns out that wasn’t the last time I would have to face them through a hard time involving a son.

A few months after that, all of the things Ray got himself involved in over the years finally began to catch up with him. We’d got into another fight in a club, which was completely self defense. It always seems like the one time your not wrong is the time you finally get caught. It was a huge club and there seemed to be fights left and right that night. The club had three different levels and it was hundreds of drunk people everywhere. One of the fights that broke out involved someone Ray and I knew pretty well. We were coming to the aid of a beaten friend and we jumped in to help. Long story short, the guys we were up against ended up getting beat up pretty bad. One guy was broken up everywhere and had to get quite a few stitches in his face, I’m not so sure his mother would of recognized him. They picked Ray up for the charges and he took the blame for it all, he never gave any of us up. In my eyes he did what any good friend would of done, but this time he couldn’t get out of it, this time it was for real. They brought up several other charges against him and gave him a court date to face his fate. We were all there on that court date and we went through it with him. He came out with a brand new suit on and his head held high, he’d already been in prison for over a year. After a few hours of listening to the prosecuting attorney depict Ray as an animal, he’s fiancé and uncle stood up and delivered heart felt speeches on his behalf. It was well done, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The judge sentenced Ray to 11 to 15 years in prison, and my heart fell into my stomach. I felt like someone had just punched the life out of me and I couldn’t breath, I looked up and saw his Mother and his Grandmother fall to the floor with tears pouring from their faces. I felt that familiar anger rise once more. I looked at Ray and he looked at me, I pounded my chest and he nodded his head, I knew he would be alright. I knew the pain I felt and couldn’t imagine what his Mother, Grandmother, or brothers were going through. I felt helpless, I felt like I failed him. I knew better and still allowed my Brother to get caught up in the system and fall victim to streets. I should of stopped him, I should of done more, that’s just how I felt. I left that court room feeling angry, hopeless, and tired. All I could do was pray, and that’s what I did, I left Ray in God’s hands. Seeing Ray face that kind of time was a wake up call, I knew I had to get myself together. I realized that ultimately what got him sent to prison was the same type of things I was doing. I was right next to him in that fight, who’s to say it couldn’t of been me. It could of easily have been me. I could have been shot and I could have been in prison, so why wasn’t it me, I couldn’t help but wonder. I wanted to change and I wanted to keep myself out of those situations. I never looked for trouble, but my problem was I never ran from it either. When it came knocking I answered, and I’d end up answering one more time before I made it through the year.

It was the beginning of spring and I was with a few of my school friends at this annual spring college event. It seemed like every student from every college was there, it was crazy. The streets were flooded with students and the hotels were packed with parties. It felt like a Mardi Gras in Virginia. In the beginning it was a good time and everything seemed good, but I’m no fool I know trouble is never far. We ended up going to this hotel party and getting in free. It was a good look, girls everywhere, free drinks, my kind of party. Only problem was I had a gut feeling and I couldn’t ignore it. My gut told me something bad was about to happen and I needed to get out of dodge. After about twenty minutes of debating, I finally convinced everybody that we should leave. They were upset, but I didn’t care, I wasn’t staying. We ended up leaving and going to this other spot, but that one was whack so we left. We planned on trying this other one out, but we didn’t make it to the place, we found trouble on the way. One of the guys I was with was a short, slim, light skinned gang member from Harlem, and a very loud one at that. His name was Harry and he’d been taunting rival gang members all night. He was showing off for his brother and I had a feeling it would be a problem. I didn’t think much of it though, because he wasn’t my friend, so I felt no reason to defend nor help him. In fact we’d almost got into our own battles in the past, several times. Eventually he said something to somebody in a passing car and that passenger turned out to be the wrong guy to say something to. In what couldn’t of been anymore then 15 minutes later, we continued down the street to find about 10 or more gang members turning the corner. They had items in their hand that I couldn’t really make out because of the distance, but they were close enough that I knew they were headed directly towards us. In my head I’m thinking you got to be kidding me, and to make matters worse I happened to have on their rival gang colors. An all red hat and practically all red sneakers. Before I could finish that thought, they were right in front of us and I saw two of the guys we were with take off. I should of done the same, I have no idea why I didn’t. We were standing in the middle of the street with tons of spectators surrounding us. That didn’t stop the gang from approaching, they were coming right at us. One of the guys immediately went straight for Harry’s face, he ran up and threw a flurry of punches at him. The rest of them either attacked Harry’s brother or the other kid we were with. I stood right there next to them and for some unexplainable reason, nobody attacked me. It was only four of us standing there and the other three had guys all over them, but I stood there without being bothered. It felt like I was in a bubble, I felt a presence around me, and to the gang it was as if I wasn’t even there. I’d never felt anything like that in my life and to this day I struggle to put it in words. While everybody else had to run or fight to avoid being attacked, I simply walked away. I walked across the street and watched the melee from a distance, fighting for colors wasn’t my thing. When it was all said and done, Harry and his brother paid a nice price for being involved in that scuffle. A few weeks later he seemed embarrassed and verbally attacked everybody for running, I was thinking this guy had to be an idiot if he thought I was going to help him in a gang fight that he provoked, especially when I didn’t like him in the first place. We’d end up almost getting in another fight over that, that kid just didn’t learn. I also saw on the news that the party I made everybody leave ended up getting shot up. Dozens of people were left injured and a few killed. My gut came through for me again, I dodged another bullet. I was left wondering once again what kept me out of danger that night, what kept the gang from attacking me. This time I was sure it was divine intervention, either that or Tay and all my guardian angels were hard at work again. Whoever it was, I was grateful and I still am, thank you.

Chapter 23 (Lessons In Love)

With Ray now in prison, Dolla recovering, and Kevin taking care of his kids I felt like the squad was divided. Alex was getting ready to graduate and was more focus on getting out of school. At that point I’d got into just as many fights in college as I did in high school, so I decided to just avoid most people all together. I felt like I couldn’t win anywhere I went so I went back to my outcast ways. I was even going to parties by myself, it got that bad. I was dealing with jealously, lies, and betrayal, and I didn’t deal with it to well. I learned fast that a genuine and honest individual wasn’t always an appreciated one. But Id rather be hated for who I am then loved for who I’m not, so I kept doing me, I was comfortable. I did what I do best and stayed to myself, talked to a lot of girls but very few guys. I didn’t talk to any of those girls on that level though, just friends, but one night all of that changed. I met a girl through a mutual friend, her name was Candice. She was a brown skinned petite girl with long hair and beautiful smile. I didn’t think much of it at first, just thought she was cool and enjoyed her conversation. Everything with her begin a lot slower then it normally did for me, we used to actually talk. She used to tell me about some dude she was talking to, so I didn’t think much about a relationship. I’d conversed with many girls in the past, but it was different with her. She used to pick my brain, she was a lot smarter then most girls I’d met. I could relate to her in ways that I couldn’t before. The more we talked the closer we got and eventually that dude she mentioned disappeared. For the first time in my life I was talking to a girl and it wasn’t based on physical attraction. I was attracted to her, but there was so much more, I was attracted to other aspects of her as well. I didn’t realize it then but Candice captured my mind, which in turn captured my heart. Most girls appear to try to go the other way and that never really worked out for me. I needed to be challenged mentally to feel anything real emotionally, I met my match. Before I knew it, we were up until 5 in the morning on many nights talking about any and everything. It was good, I had more then a girl, I had a friend, a confidante. It was real and I knew it, I couldn’t deny it for too long. More then just being smart, she was genuine and compassionate. She took a genuine interest in me and would get to know me better then I knew myself. We became best friends and she filled that void. In a time where I was so cold and filled with rage, she came in and helped me, she taught me to love again. As it is with every relationship though, the bad was never too far behind the good.

Being that I was in my first real relationship, there were a lot of lessons for me to learn. Some good, some bad, but lessons nonetheless. Like every other couple Candy and I ran into a few obstacles, some of which were extremely hard to get past. All in all she loved me, she cared for me, and she wanted to know me forever. She was willing to give anything, to have what most people dream of someday having. The bottom line was I wasn’t used to that, and I wasn’t prepared for it either. She presented a challenge I wasn’t ready to face, and it showed. For her I think it was easy, she was a good girl. She wasn’t running around talking to a bunch of different guys like most chicks I know. I think the thought of finding a guy she could spend the rest of her life with at such a young age was everything she dreamed of. It scared the hell out of me. I knew she was different then every woman I ever met and I wanted to spend my life with her because of that. Only problem was I felt like I hadn’t had the chance to live or accomplish much yet, I wanted to meet her when I was 30. Unfortunately, we don’t get that choice and I had to play the hand I was dealt, but I didn’t always play my cards right. Eventually me and Candy would start fighting, it seemed like we fought everyday. In the beginning of our relationship I was cold, simply because that’s just where I was in my life. She was sweet and kind hearted and fought to break through my shell. Well as time went on the tides would turn and she became a product of her environment. “When a good girl goes bad, she’s gone forever,” whoever said that knew exactly what they were talking about, and my good girl was gone, forever. See Candy couldn’t deal with all the little things young men are known to do. I wasn’t running around cheating on her, but I did do things like flirt and take numbers every once in a while. I wrote messages on Facebook, made friends at work and all of those types of things. I got caught every time and eventually it took a toll on her. I’m not sure when it all turned around for her, but I remember the day it all turned around for me.

I had a basketball game and I remember her being in the stands talking to this clown that I really couldn’t stand. I’d had scuffles and arguments with this dude on multiple occasions and I knew what his intentions were. Whether she knew or not didn’t matter, I was pist and I couldn’t focus. I was thinking I cant believe this girl is actually at my game and rather then watching it, she’s in the stands exchanging numbers with this dude. Who does that? Even in my times of exchanging numbers and flirting, I never did it in her face. He would eventually call and I got on the phone and made an ugly situation even uglier. Hands would end up being put on him and I carried that resentment with Candy for years. I tried to get past it, but it would haunt me and I became a lot more ruthless with my decision making. In her eyes she probably felt her actions were justified somehow with all the little things I’d done, in my eyes you never “get a man back like that.” At this point in our relationship my rage grew out of control and my temper really begin to show. I never hit her, but I did put my share of holes in the walls, broke many things, and had to take quite a few walks. Our arguments became more and more passionate and it was obvious we weren’t working. We ended up taking breaks, but always found ourselves back together. In that time though, she became the cold one and I became the one trying to hold things together. She would stop answering her phone for days and completely neglect me. I became outraged and started to find a bunch of different ways to release my anger. One of those ways was through talking to this pretty light skinned girl at work. That pretty light skinned girls name was Sabrina. Sabrina was a medium build, with black hair, and big lips. She was attractive and had really nice smile. She sat next to me and I used to tell her about the things I was going through with Candy. She used to do the same things all woman do and tell me how I would be so much better off single. She told me she was talking to somebody as well but it wasn’t serious. I thought she was attractive but never really thought more about it. We kept it cool for quite a while and just conversed at work to get through the hours. Eventually the fights with Candy became a little too much. I caught her trying to talk to some guy on her computer, and another one on the phone. I didn’t know if it was pay back or genuine, but either way I couldn’t handle it. My talks with Sabrina became longer and soon we hung out. Candy decided she had enough and we finally broke up. In that time I relied on the comfort of Sabrina to get me through the days. It was hard without Candy, it wasn’t the same and I was just trying to get through the nights. Sabrina and I became closer and eventually developed a friendship, I needed that. As time went on I did something I should of never done, I allowed myself to catch feelings for her. We appeared to be in the same situation and I thought we were in it together. Problem was there was a small piece of information she decided to leave out. Turned out that guy she was “kind of talking to” was her boyfriend, and they were practically in love. The fact that we were “talking” eventually got out and it wasn’t long before the dude was calling my phone. I saw him at a party and the tension was obvious, I knew it wouldn’t be long until it hit the fan. He was a tall muscular brown skinned kid, with a very limited amount of swagger. He called my phone making a variety of threats and once again trouble worked long and hard to find me. I didn’t know if I should be mad because she lied, because this dude called my phone, or because all of these happen and it wasn’t even over the girl I loved. What the hell was I involved in? The same night he called my phone, I found out where he lived and made my way to his apartment. I didn’t want the beef to linger and I was just ready to let it be what it was going to be right there. Plus he told a few people he was looking for me, and I wasn’t really a fan of being looked for, so I made myself pretty accessible. As I waited by the front door of his lobby, he pulled up in a black truck with a few friends. He came home after about five minutes of waiting and some words were immediately exchanged between his people and mine. It was dark and quiet, but both parties were pretty hostile and the air held an extreme amount of tension. I was basically there to tell him look this is what it is between me and your girl and you’ll never have to “look” for me again. Before I could finish speaking my piece, coincidentally she was calling my phone. I answered and put her on speaker and she started crying begging me not to hurt him. I think that hurt his pride and he decided his anger should be directed more towards her. Our beef was over, but my beef with Sabrina was still alive. In the end she decided to work things out with him. Honestly, I didn’t really care, I missed Candy, but it was the principal that bothered me. I still felt betrayed, I was honest about my circumstances and expected the same from her. Now it seemed like no matter who I was with, I was thinking about the other girl. Sabrina told me that we couldn’t be friends and she would never call me again. That lasted for about two weeks then she was back to calling. It was as if she didn’t care about dudes feelings or mine. It was another lesson on love and more importantly woman. It appeared they were both full of it, I felt I needed to let them be. I wasn’t happy at home and I wasn’t happy outside of home, it made me wish I’d never got involved with anybody. Candy and I would eventually get back together and try to work things out. It worked for a while and I remained completely faithful. Regardless, I think in the end the damage was done, and we had one hell of an uphill battle to fight. We both had demons inside and it seemed neither of us was strong enough to fight them. I loved her, but she wasn’t the girl I fell in love with, and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. We did manage to make things work all the way up until graduation. That was a bitter sweet time for the both of us, we were both happy to be leaving, but had to face that fact that we would be officially separated. Up until that point I’d managed to stay out of any confrontations and I was reasonably happy. I knew my family was coming into town soon and I was pretty damn excited about graduating. However, like he’d done so many times in the past, the Devil would come knocking when he sensed accomplishment.

I was in these apartment complexes looking for a specific party one night trying to meet a friend of mine. I was slightly intoxicated and couldn’t remember which apartment he said it was in. The building was brand new and there weren’t any people or noise in the hallway. I felt the party couldn’t be in that building, but I did hear music coming from a specific apartment. I knocked on the door and a short, stocky white boy answered. He told me with an attitude that who I was looking for wasn’t there, then he slammed the door in my face. I wanted to laugh it off, I swear I did, but I couldn’t, I kicked the door out of frustration and began to make my way down the hall. Before I could reach the hallway door, he opened his apartment door and yelled, “Kick my door again ni**a!” Now being that this white boy dressed and talked like a black guy, I’m not exactly sure what he meant by the term. All I knew was it was offensive, and I was pist. I ran back to the door and tried to grab him, but he ducked inside. Before I could put my hands on him, everybody who was inside began coming out, and to my surprise, it was Brent and his new friends. The last time I saw Brent up close we got into it and I smacked him, I had a feeling this wouldn’t be pretty. Still, I was intoxicated and so angry in the moment that I still tried to get to the white boy while Brent’s people where trying to throw me back in the hall way. Once I realized that Brent was one of the people grabbing me I swung on him. I missed, and then one of his boys grabbed me and we started wrestling in the hallway. They tried to jump me and I remember making my way out the door and finally getting outside. Once I got outside I pulled my knife out and everybody’s intentions immediately changed. I remember hearing “Oh this ni**a got a knife” and “He ain’t stabbing me though.” I don’t remember much after that, I blacked out. What I do know is, I was drunk and I was outnumbered at least six or seven to one. I left without a scratch on me. It was around that time my man D from East New York showed up with a few people and evened the playing field a little bit. D was a light skinned bigger kid, who had an attitude very similar to mine. Of course there would be no fighting now and everything was good. Once again I found myself in a situation where the results could have been so much worse, I was saved….Again. I’m not exactly sure why my luck was so bad, and how I found myself in that situation in the fist place, but still I needed to be grateful it ended the way it did. A few days later my family arrived and it was graduation time. All my boys were there and I was as happy as I’d been in a long time. A week earlier I’d got a phone call from a Top Dolla Records Rep and he said he was interested in working with me if I came back to New York. It felt like with everything I’d been through so far, all the hard work, blood, sweat, and tears were finally about to pay off. I was excited and it finally felt like my life had a meaning, a purpose. I was ready to conquer the world, and show everybody who I really was. This was my moment, and I was ready. New focus, new mind, new agenda, New York.

Chapter 24 (New Focus, New York)

So I arrived in back in New York searching for what I felt I lost as kid. I was in a search for myself, trying to find me. Back on a path that was eroded and tarnished by the necessities of life. I felt like everything I’d gone through up to that point in my life led to this very moment. There was a challenge in front of me and I was ready for it, at least I thought I was. The rep from Top Dolla Records offered for me to stay with him and work on my music. I wanted to, but my family didn’t agree, so I was convinced to move back in with my Grandmother. A decision that would later prove to be necessary but challenging. I came back home with an open attitude but a closed heart. I still had trust issues, a bad attitude towards love and many demons inside of me. It didn’t take long for the city I loved to exploit that, I ran into drama fast. I got to working with J.D the music rep pretty quickly. I called him as soon as I touched down and he started bringing me to the studio. In the beginning I was going by myself and trying to find my way in. The studio was constantly filled with dudes and it took a while before I would talk to any of them. It seemed like everybody had an agenda and nobody gave a damn about the new kid standing alone. I couldn’t be mad, I knew what it was. It was awkward though, I was so used to having a crew or at least one familiar face around me that I could trust to a certain extent. But in those times I was completely solo, surrounded by street dudes who all had the same goal, but different agendas. Eventually I started rapping and recording and I could sense the hate immediately. There was a great deal of respect between most of these dudes and myself but it was obvious I’d be making friends no time soon. See in that industry everybody is for self, and truth be told I’m a lot better then most, so I knew nobody would want to help me. Rather then help a man who could potentially bring in millions, they rather fend for self with no talent. J.D would constantly tell me to go to the studio, but he was never around. It was as if he introduced me to everybody and made it alright for me to be there, but never actually helped me develop as an artists. How the hell was I supposed to progress by going to a studio everyday and just sitting around listening and watching other artist make music. I’d already learned all I needed to know about artist, don’t trust them, and I’d already learned all I needed to know about friends, there are none. I just wanted to learn about music. I wasn’t just happy to be around platinum selling artist like Jay-Bills and Amnesia. It also wasn’t like I was just going to run up on Jay and ask him to do a joint with me, or ask the boss Ike to put one of my joints out. I wanted to prove myself, but had no idea how, especially when dudes weren’t willing to listen. They were only doing what came to them naturally, and so was I, rebelling. As time went on I was usually just in the studio sitting around and it became painfully obvious that J.D called me to New York for absolutely no reason. I didn’t know what his intentions were, but I couldn’t see how this could possibly have been a well thought out plan on his part. Being around a bunch of dudes I didn’t know every night made me a little uneasy. I felt like I had to always be on guard. Most of them were cool, but it’s always a few that have to show their a** on occasion. I used to get dirty looks from a couple of them and I knew they felt some type of way about me being around. I saw a lot of backstabbing and little snake stuff take place and I began to realize that the industry was the home for that. I saw a lot of guys come and go and I saw the type of things that took place behind everybody’s back. They talk about and wish harm upon everybody, nobody’s safe, not even the established. Even Ike and Jay with all they’ve accomplished got a brunt of the bad talk. In Ike’s case it was obvious why, he wasn’t an easy man to like. He was known for building an empire and being huge at one point, and though he may have lost money and his stature, he never lost his attitude. Every time he came around he treated me like I was plotting to rob him, like I was there for a hand out. I think I might have been introduced to the man like five times, hilarious. Jay was a big time at one point as well, but he seemed cool though. Though he sold so many records in his time he was humble, I can tell he’d been through some things. The more time I spent in the studio the more things I saw. One thing was true, I learned a hell of a lot more about life and about the actually music industry then I did about music. I was once again in an environment where I felt everything was fake and I couldn’t figure out how to cope. In environments like these you make one mistake and it could be you’re last. I remember one kid brought his friends to the studio and one of them decided to steal. I saw this kid get beat until his face swelled up to be twice as big as its normal size. He looked like Martin in the Tommy Hearns episode. They beat the hell out of him and he was defenseless. One thing became certain, I needed a click, and I needed one fast. I would never be alone without a weapon in anybody’s studio again, just a precaution. It was around this time that I reunited with Lamar. It had been about eight or nine years since we last saw each other. It was almost like I never left though. Around this time he was working on music himself, so I brought him around the studio. After brining him I began to question his motives. I let it go though, I figured I was looking too much into it. Besides it was good to not have to sit around by myself all the time, and to have somebody to go with me. With him around I actually started getting joints done and dudes began to pay attention. Something was wrong though, he was going too hard. I wasn’t so sure if he was there to back me up, or to put himself on. As time went on it became harder and harder to tell. It started to feel like he had his own motives and I could sense a change. That was my man since sixth grade though, couldn’t be, so I let it go again. Hanging around Lamar I started to feel my old self coming back. I started to pick up on some of my old habits. Between being in the studio and being around him I was around a lot of negativity again. A lot of Lamar’s people were hustling and the thought of it was extremely appealing. I mean I had a degree and the economy was so finished it didn’t matter, I couldn’t get a decent job to save my life. All these dudes had no college education, but they had money, blowing thousands in clubs and on clothes. I’m struggling to pay for a degree, which ironically is struggling to help me get a job. A couple thousand a week off drug money could help, but I stayed focus. I kept going to the studio, making music and I kept my eye on Lamar in the mean time.

While I was busy trying to become a star in the streets, my love for life was taking a serious blow. The last time I spoke to Candy we had an argument on the phone, and she hung up on me. I was going through a time where I felt sick and my body began to feel weak. It became apparent I needed something, I just didn’t know what. After that argument with Candy she hung up on me and set her phone up to where it would go to voicemail every time I called. She would never answer again, and eventually I stopped calling. That was it, the only girl I’d ever loved was officially out my life and I was left to begin a search to replace an irreplaceable person. It seems like from that point on it was just one girl after another. They came and they went, and there was quite a few. I never saw myself as a player though, simply because I never made a woman feel we had something more then what we did. I respect woman a lot more then the average man does, and I tried to make that obvious. I was searching for a monogamous relationship, but it just didn’t seem to be in the cards for me. With every woman I met, there seemed to be one problem after another. Tamia ended up being a liar who was dealing with other men. Latoya ended up being a liar who was currently in an abusive relationship that she didn’t want to leave. Angelina, Carla, and Cristina were all young and more interested in running around then being involved. Daniela turned out to be a stripper, Janet fell in love with another man while I was on a business trip, and Eva was married to a physco who she had a child with. I couldn’t win, and the list goes on, but you get the point. When Candy left she took my heart with her, I couldn’t trust any of these woman and I felt like I had all the reasons in the world not too. Maybe some of it was me, I honestly don’t know, the one thing I do know is my gut told me that neither of them would last and it was right every time. I decided that love just wasn’t in the book for me and I would no longer search to find it. I didn’t believe in it, I didn’t believe it exists and I didn’t want to focus on it, I had other problems to deal with. While I was busy meeting girl after girl looking for companionship, I was also struggling to find peace at home.

Through all that time I developed a bond with my Grandmother that was like no other. She was the only thing that kept me sane through a lot of those times. We had many of long talks and she had a way of making me feel at home and making me feel safe. My Grandma loved me more then anything and it was obvious, she introduced me to unconditional love. Seem like no matter what I did she would love me the same and never hold anything against me. With all the people who’d turned on me and with all the pain I’d felt, that time with my Grandmother was well needed. I needed her more then she’ll ever know, and she came through, and then some. She understood me, she got me, and for that I will forever be grateful. Unfortunately like everything else I’d experienced in my life, where there was good, I knew bad wasn’t to far behind. My Grandmother was in love with a man who would constantly try to destroy that love I had for her. This man was an jerk, I cant think of a better way to describe him. In my eyes he was disrespectful, rude, uneducated and miserable. He was an older, tall and brown skinned slim guy who I had no idea he would be coming around. It seemed that my entire family knew but never actually took the time to point it out to me. When he first started coming around I was surprised, but never imagined that there would be a problem. After all he didn’t live there and only came for a few hours a week so what harm could that cause? Turns out that man was jealous and extremely bitter. Another case of an old miserable man wanting everything and everyone around him to be miserable too. See his problem was he was used to having my Grandmother to himself, he was used to being the only man that mattered. That was no longer the case, he had to make room. My problem was every time we would have a conflict, I took it personal. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a grown man his age could actually be jealous or envious of a woman’s Grandson. It didn’t seem possible to me, jealousy is a female trait and to be jealous of a woman’s Grandson was just unheard of. So every time we got into it, I took it as he had a personal problem with me, not that he was just a jealous and miserable individual. It took years and a countless amount of fights to figure that one out. In the first incident I simply and politely asked the man not to drink all of the soda I intended to share with my guest for an event we were having that night. This man lashed out and begin threatening and cursing at me as if I just slapped his mother. I was caught off guard and threw a few words back in self defense and next thing I know I was being invited outside. Part of me was thinking what a fight between us could do to my Grandmother, but the other part was thinking whoop his a**. See I’d been punished and abused by a bitter and miserable man before and was starting to get dejavu. The words that were coming out of his mouth and the expressions on his face reminded me of the shattered moments I shared with my father. The only difference was this time around I was grown, not scared, and more then able and willing to defend myself. I’d seen this movie before, and I’d be damned if I let it end the same way the first one did. After the abuse I suffered with my father I promised myself no man in this world would ever put his hands on me again and get away with it. No man would ever threaten me, harm me or make me feel the type of pain my Father did. This man was trying to do that, and it wasn’t going to happen, I didn’t give a damn who he was. Initially he was a little easier to tolerate, but as time went on it just became harder and harder. I did a little homework and discovered the entire story of him and my Grandmother. I was told that he had another family, coincidentally we knew a few of the same people in the street. I’m not sure if the news I got was accurate but it made me look at the situation in a different light. It’s a small world, and a lot of things started to make sense to me after that. A friend of mine also told me that my Grandmother told her how they met. An introduction, which pretty much included him threatening another man to establish his presence in my Grandmothers life. At this point I discovered two things, he obviously had a problem, and he obviously wasn’t a real man. Which was funny to me because he’s biggest argument was that I wasn’t a man and he was trying to teach me to be one. In order to teach somebody how to be a man, you have to be one first. How he could be in the situation he was in and consider himself a man was beyond me. So I was forced to sit back and watch this man treat my Grandmother the way he did and constantly disrespect me in the same token. I don’t blame, judge nor fault my Grandma for that, but I would think anybody could understand how that situation would be difficult for a Grandson to deal with. After the first incident between us my Grandmother came home and I explained what happened. I had company over at the time of the fight, so I had a witness and knew there wouldn’t be a problem in determining who was wrong. My Grandmother heard my side of the story and immediately went to check him for his actions. Once their conversation was finished, she approached me and stated that there needed to be some “house rules.” That broke my heart, but at that point I knew what it was, and the gloves were off. The next few times I would see that guy it was always a problem. He would come over when she wasn’t around and find a way to stir up trouble. He was childish, he’d come over and turn his music up real loud at seven in the morning knowing I was sleep. Bang on things throughout the house, walk around in his draws and eat everything in the fridge. Stare at me whenever I came out the room and mumble little slick things to get me going. Unbelievable, and he managed to do all these things without living there. A few more times we managed to get into heated arguments and almost fights. We never would actually fight though, mostly because every time I would actually go outside he would never follow. He would only go outside once my Grandmother came around or once the cops were called. That was interesting to me, so the next time he called me on the phone, I made a proposition. I figured since the problem between was obviously not going to get any better the best thing we could do was just fight. I offered to fight him without sharing the information with anybody in my family, we could shoot a fair one and no one would ever have to know. Settle our differences like men, sad, and maybe even a little ignorant, but that’s all I knew. While the thought of fighting my Grandmothers old and miserable boyfriend was childish to me, it seemed to be the only solution. There comes a point in every mans life where words and practices of non-violence just don’t work. In those moments a man chooses to do one of two things, he either fights or he runs. I was raised to fight, so that’s what I prepared myself to do. He declined the offer and just continued to call me a f*ck*ng fa**ot and every other curse word his midget mind could think of. That confused me, I couldn’t figure out what he wanted, you obviously don’t want to fight, so why continue to bother me? My thing was your supposed to be a man and love my Grandmother. So why cant you learn to be at least be cordial and understand and respect the fact that she loves her Grandson. How is that so hard? See I could walk up and down the house all day and not say anything to him, though inside I wanted to kill him. Simply because that’s how much love and admiration I had for my Grandmother. That would be too easy, but he couldn’t do it. I learned that together we could never mesh and it was as simple as the lion and hyena theory. See the lion minds his business, he can sit around and chill, while running the jungle and not worry about what the hyena is doing. Ultimately, the Hyena poses no threat to the loin. However, the hyena has to pick at and taunt the lion every chance he gets. Simply because he’s jealous, he cant be the lion or beat the lion and that kills him. So he picks at him until he finally gets a rise out of him, and once the lion gets up and roars, he runs. He runs away laughing knowing his mission was accomplished, he got the lion to react. A hyena is merely a coward who is a master at exploiting chaos, and I was forced to deal with one. Once I realized what I was dealing with and exposed this man for who he really was, he became easier to tolerate. I learned not to take it personal, and the only way to beat him was to laugh at him. So as much as I may have wanted to kill him, and knowing I had all the potential in the world to do it, I laughed and learned to see him for exactly what he was, a joke.

All in all I learned a lot from dealing with that situation and many of those lessons would go on to help me in my adult life thus far. I learned patience, and learned that with responsibility comes expectations. When you know your better then something you have to prove it, if you don’t pass a test that God puts in front of you he’ll continue to present that test to you until you do. All that time, I made that situation about my Grandma’s boyfriend and it had nothing to do with him, it was bigger then him, much bigger. God was merely using him to help mold me into that man he wants and needs me to be. See my lessons had to be hard, because I never responded to easy. God had to shake me to get my attention, simply because there’s no other way to get it. I learned that I can’t always allow people, nor my temper to be the deciding factor when I’m being tested. So long as I allowed that to happen, I could be considered week, and nowhere near ready to conquer the world as I’d planned. I simply was not ready and had so much more to learn. I wanted to be great, I wanted to make changes, and to whom much is given, much is required. Which means if I ask for it, I have to be prepared for what it comes with. Through my Grandmother I learned the true definition of unconditional love. You accept people for who the are, good or bad, and you love them regardless. If you love someone for their good, you have to love them for their bad as well. I never grasped that concept, and spent my life only loving people when they did right. My Grandmother taught me how to love again, the right way. I’d capture that lesson again while getting into a fight with my younger sister. She did something which I felt was disrespectful, and I lashed out the same way I always did when faced with disrespect. I let my rage get the best of me and saw how it affected her, I saw how it filled her eyes with fear. In trying to hold a grudge with her over the matter I realized I couldn’t, I loved her too much. Before she came to me with tears in her eyes and told me how much she loved me, I was willing to hold a grudge with someone I loved more then I loved myself. How cold do you have to be to do that? Another lesson learned. It took that moment for me to see how cold I’d become and how much I’d let things that happened in the past affect my life. The people and the things that I learned to hate, affected the things and the people that I learned to love. I had to let those things die, the same way I let the grudge with my sister die. I spent my life always waiting for someone to blow it and stab me when I closed my eyes. They showed me that love is real and it doesn’t fade when it’s genuine. It was then I realized that it was the same love I’d received from my family all along. The same love that pulled me through tough situations and pulled me out of the impossible. It was same love that gave me hope when I was in despair, and strength when I was weak. It was the same love that healed me after being abused and calmed me after the storms. It was the same love that kept me alive, and it’s the same love that drives me today. That love has brought me to believe and understand that everything happens for a reason and My Grandmothers boyfriend isn’t the only person who was put in my life to teach me a lesson. Everybody was. All the people I’ve met, and all the people that have hurt me were all there to teach me and help me become the man I am today. I spent my whole life being different and paying for being different, but now I stand as a man today and embrace the fact that I am different. I look at what my brothers and I have experienced and I realize that I could have been shot, I could have been in prison and I could easily be dead. Yet through it all I'm not, and I know its because God has a bigger plan for me. I know he wants more out of me and I know he’s not finished with me yet. I know he has a plan, and I may not know what that plan is, but I know I'm part of it. I know it will answer all of the questions I’ve carried with me on my journey. That journey was a rough one, filled with dark times and real life nightmares. That journey was real, but I made it, I’m here, and the crazy part is that journey is just beginning. I’m now at a place where I'm comfortable, I'm content, and I'm searching. Searching for the same thing I set out to find when I took that trip to Virginia. I’m wiser, I’m older, and now I realize that there is a challenge in front of me and I’m prepared. How this journey will end, we are yet to see, but I know it will be exciting. Whenever that opportunity presents itself Ill be ready, ready to take the world by the ears and tell my story one tear at a time. I’ve always known I was destined to be more then average and now my destiny awaits. The blood, the sweat, the tears, the rhymes, and all the dark times all prepared me for this moment. This moment to capture the world, or at least the part that belongs to me. Those dark moments were merely teachers, motivators. Those dark moments had my best interest at hand. Those dark moments were beautiful, a beautiful darkness.

Epilogue

I wrote this book for several different reasons. Some stand out a lot more then others. I didn’t write it just to tell my story, or to search for some type of fame or sympathy. See the truth is there are people who have been through much more and lived in far worse conditions. That’s exactly what I feel makes my story unique. See I didn’t necessarily grow up in the ghetto or have to sell drugs to get out. I didn’t have to shoot my way to school or fight my way out of prison. I have a very strong family which consist of two loving parents. For a certain period of time I lived in a house which could probably be featured on MTV Cribs. Its not the everyday rags to riches story, its not the kid who was simply targeted due to bad decision making. What my story does is it revels a different aspect of growing up in America. You can live in the big house at the end of the hill and go sleep every night to the sound of crickets rather then gun shots. By no means does that mean your children will never be forced to face life threatening and life changing situations. See people have a tendency to believe if they move their children out of the “Ghetto” they’ll be safe. When I moved to Colorado I lived in what could be considered one of the safest places in the country, and I still only had to step out my neighborhood to be surrounded by drugs and negativity. Be careful in believing that your children are safe, or in judging people because of where they are or where they come from. You don’t know them and you have no idea what they’ve been thorough, pay more attention. Whether we grew up in the hood, or in the suburbs, we still have a lot of things in common. We still have to make decisions that will affect the rest of our lives one way or another. We all are somehow connected by just being human beings, judge not. This story goes to show you that you can make all of the right decisions and go to school and say no to drugs and still struggle to survive. Many parents feel their child will never have to experience some of the things other kids do, because they don’t live in the ghetto. My story shows that’s not necessarily true, this too could be the story of your child. If you’re a parent, pay close attention to your children, regardless of where you live. Your child could also face these same decisions and if your not focus as a parent, they may not be as fortunate as I. Sometime the pain and the abuse doesn’t come from the street, at times it shows in a home. If you’ve been abused, then you know its something you may never truly get over. Try to learn to accept the fact that some people are blinded and stuck by their own insecurities and ignorance. Try not to let them steal your joy forever, if you do, that’s the real abuse. Another reason I wrote this book, is because far too much we only focus on the stories of famous people. You never hear about the struggles of an average individual with aspirations to become famous. The person who doesn’t find success through money and fame, but through redemption and growth. A girl once told me she felt that Barack Obama was self-centered because he wrote a book before he became President, he wrote a book before he was “somebody”. Somebody? What defines somebody? Is it fame, is it money? What plateau does a person have to reach, before they deserve to tell their story? What does one have to accomplish to be considered “Somebody?” What if a person doesn’t have what you decide a person has to have in order to be considered “somebody?” Does that make them “nobody?” If a person is famous, does that mean he means more to his mother then I mean to mine? Does that mean if something happens to me, my Mother should say “Hey, at least my son was nobody.” I couldn’t understand her philosophy, I thought it was ignorant. Too many times people look left and right but never see what’s right in front of them. Most of the stories that are often shared are stories that don’t touch many people. Most people look at the stories that end with fame and fortune and think, well that’s not me and that never will be me so what I went through was in vain. Sometime the end of the road doesn’t hold riches and fame, but it holds other things of equal value. This is a story that’s never told, this is a story that happens to a hell of a lot more people then the one that ends with a person becoming President. Regardless of what that girl felt, I wanted to share my story and I did. To me she defined herself as nobody, and were only as good as we believe we are. You can control what you do with your life and I am confident my story will help someone, somewhere, someday. Understand you will never be happy if you go through life searching for something when you don’t know what your searching for. Slow down, listen more and talk less. Set goals and believe in yourself regardless of what life may throw at you, that’s the only to win. So long as your alive, and you obviously are if your reading this, your blessed, so congratulations. Now take life by the throat, tell someone you love them, and go capture every dream you’ve ever had, you deserve it. Thank you for reading.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 02.02.2011

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Widmung:
This book is dedicated to my Parents, my Grandmothers, my Sisters, and my Brothers. My dear friends and to everyone who suffers from abuse or deals with demons on a consistent basis. To everyone who was ever told that they could not accomplish something.