I kind of let my last post screech to a halt before I touched on something that I really wanted to touch on. So I'm doing this here, raw and uncut from the public computer terminal. I'll try and make this as concise as possible because I dunno who is gonna walk in and my alt-tab might get slow.
Anyway, to the point: One night I got to sit up with Twan and talk about the things that led up to what he did. It was difficult because he obviously had reservations about telling me and this is the guy I've shared shit that NO ONE else knows. So, I listened and it was obvious that he wasn't really comfortable talking about it. I'm not really gonna go into it, but it I guess some of the shit could sound outlandish to some people.
The thing about it though is that I really understood where he was coming from on alot of levels. I went through my times, and I had to fight my demons and until then it didn't really dawn on me as to how lucky I was. I did more than my fair shit of dirt, or even stupid shit and I realized that it could easily be me facing significant jail time, or worse.
Whenever you're in Chicago, in the hood it's like you never left. I could be a 4 star general, with 3 kids and a great life but if I walked down 79th street I'd just be another motherfucker. I guess thats what really scares me about Chicago and why I'm never there. When I see the bums on the street, or just the guys barely making it by trying to survive I can SEE myself as them.
no..
That's putting it lightly.
I can FEEL myself there, as one of them and for all the things I've done and all the things I'm trying to do I can't even imagine myself doing it, even as it's being done. Being in the Army, having money, going to college, being successful to me the shits like a hazy dream that doesn't even real seem like it's there, while all the bullshit, all the despair all the trifles of the streets are cold reality.
I dunno really. I guess the doubt is something I'll never be able to shake.
I alluded to my last post earlier and it was the thought of my father that made it so I couldn't really type anymore. I'll just add a little more on to that as well while I'm at it. I didn't say a word to the man, he tried to talk to me but I just can't bring myself to speak to the man. I think it's because I'm afraid. It's not like the way it was when I was younger. I used to be so afraid of my dad that it felt like I could face anything else in the world because, fuck it wadn't my dad. It's something different though because everything I think of him I try to imagine what it was that made him turn out the way he did. I know hes not stupid, and I know I'm more like him then I care to admit. It's just that I can't ever fathom allowing myself to be like him, but I've been told that he felt the same way about his pop and things didn't work out for him at all. The fear is that I don' t know if I'm prepared to hear what it was, because whatever it was I may not be able to handle and I'm sure I'll have to face it at some point.
Again. I dunno, and I really wish I did.
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1 comment:
You can write a book with your thoughts. I feel like I know you a whole lot better; llike you are talking to me directly. I have never met a man at your age that had important things to say at that level. Reading about you has definately made me take a few steps back to think about how blessed we really are to have accomplished whatever. I feel more connected to you personally. Keep writing and Keep ya head up. Your thoughts are greatly appreciated.
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