We must all know that are family does indeed ground us , make us, and groom us to who we are.  And that in this life everything is a choice. We must learn to learn from others experiences, the good and the bad.  And what  we learn from others experiences.  It is then  that truly we do become wise.
 
 

I have always been a loner.  Thinking, plotting, scheming, and always in some sort of trouble.  See,  I never ran with a lot of dudes cuzz I felt if I am going to do dirt.  Then I will do it by myself.  No one to see, no one to snitch on me.  No one to hate on me.  That is me.

But I was told  I had to talk to this psychairtrist.  She told me that I should have played and made friends. 

 But my father beat my mother, and for whatever reason, I locked myself into my room.  Covered my ears and cried.  Then when I got older, I started to beat my dads ass.  He would pull back off my mom,try to kick me out.  And I told him that as long as he still lived in the house.  I would live here too, so go ahead and try me. 

I took care of my mother fully, and I hustled and stole and did what I had to do to keep her happy.  My father was jealous of our relationship.  She went on cruises by herself and with me. I sent her to see her family, vacations, sent her to beauty salons and spas.  My father gritted his teeth so much.  And to my happiness, he was pissed off. 

So you see, I never really made friends beacuse I had to look after my mother.  When I was little nursing her wounds was all I could do. 

Now, I never got caught when I was young doing anything in the wrong.  I was smooth, I was quick on my feet, and I moved in silence.  And get this, I had good grades which made my mother happy and my father upset.  You must understand my father was a hateful, selfish, stubborn!  Even with his own son and wife.  Bastard.

I have seen so much in my life, and my thoughts.  Well, my thoughts have always been on evil.  Because that is all I saw.  From my home, to the streets.  To what men did to little kids.  To dope dealers that had dopefiends doing wild shyt for a hit.  Too much!  I had my first piece of azz when I was thirteen. 

My innocence was gone and I hid I myself in my books.  But I was a real street minded and moving lil boy.  I saw stabbings, murders, rape, I saw evil.  And it made me stay away from people  Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't a recluse.  So men and women I saw as haters, lovers of money in the foulest way.  I kept those close, and the simple and slow ones at bay.  They were no threat to me at all.

I was twenty-eight still living at home.  Because my father wouldn't leave the home.  Now I know you wonder why I didn't move my mother out of the house.  Well you should no the answer.  She didn't want to leave.  She felt she worked for that house to maintain and make it beautiful.  Make payments, do upgrades.  And my father was of course not selling it because he was stubborn.

So there we all stayed.  And the evening I had come home from class.  I was working on my Masters Degree.  I went to school to keep me out of trouble.  I didn't want to stay in the streets all day and night.  I wasn't a dope dealer.  But I moved weight.  I was one of those, if I can get a truck, some freight.  Sale flat screen computers, lap tops, designer clothes and bags. 

And my shyt sold in volumes I made mad money.  And I paid all the dudes that would get the product for me.  I was bad I'm telling you.

Well my dad he was sitting on the sofa holding his chest.  He was having a hard time breathing.  Gasping for air fighting for air. He then reached out to me and I stood there in that spot and I watched him die!  Because I knew that is what my dad was doing.  I wished, hoped, prayed for this day.  I even dreamt of it at night in my sleep periodically.  I loathed my father the man who gave me life and loved the beautiful mother that carried me for nine months.

My father started turning blue and I stood their unemotional.  I was sad that my mother could not be here to see him die.  Because I know she wished it too.  I would not, can not, will not shed a tear for my father he was not worth any sadness and tears.  And the life I have lived it has me immuned to this world and feelings.  I love my mother only and not in a sick perverted way.  You see a woman bleed and being battered then you have seen more than you should.

My father clutched and clutched for life and then his eyes rolled up in his head.  And he died right in front of me.  My father had a stroke and it killed him on the spot.  I stood there for twenty minutes my heart rate did not speed up at all. I stood there only to make sure he did not come back to life from death.  It wasn't until I was sure that I walked over and checked his pulse.  He was dead.  Then I smiled I was in the first time of my life proud of my father. 

I called 911 and I called my mother.  And when my mother got home she saw him and she too smiled with tears streaming down her face.  I held her around her shoulders.  And as oxymorron as it sounds my mother said, "Thank you Jesus."  And she went outside and sat on the porch.  She had rattan furniture and tables out there.  I seen my mother light a cigarette and blow the air out hard. "This is my last cigarette hun.  I am going to detox tomorrow.  I won't breath so hard when I work out anymore.  And then I'm going on the next singles cruise."  And we waited for the ambulance.  My mother was next door with her best friend is why she had got there before the ambulance did.  I reached for a hit of my mothers cigarrette my first and last hit.  And it felt good the menthol going down my throat. 

We had my father cremated we had no funeral.  We told his famly when and where the wake was.  And guess what?  No one showed up to see my father. We were not there.  He had no love, no friends.  No family. 

My mother quickly got his clothes, shoes, hats, everything! Even pictures.  And she throwed them in the fireplace. She burnt them all to a crisp.  We sold the house and my mother moved into a condo. I  finished school and I bought my first house.  I was now happy!

I continued to hustle, work, school until I had graduated from school.  It was then that I had gotten greedy.  It was a hustle I never really fuked with.  Checks and credit cards, but the first three times I did it it was a sweet deal. But this time I had gotten over three million dollars in credit cards.  I had over twenty thousand in checks and I had three hundred thousand dollars of counterfiet money. 

The guy I was selling the money to was an undercover.  I was set up!  How did they find me?  Everything that I felt or even thought of or had was gone instantly!  I was caught with everything!  And this is what they call real fed time there was no way to fight it with a lawyer so I didn't waste my time hiring one. 

I was given twenty years!  When I get out of prison I will be fifty one years old! And I hope that I will still be alive and so hopefully  my mother. 

I told her to not come and see me in court.  Because I didn't want to see her in tears neither did I want that last memory of her in my head. 

They all trip off of me in here because I stay to myself, don't socialize, don't get caught up.  I work out and my mother sends me care packages and pics.  She is well off and okay I was no fool  I saved, had CD's, money marketing accounts.  Insurance on myself.  IRAS.  I would have money when I got out of prison. 

I read, I ate, I worked out. I learned so many things in jail.  I loved books so since there was nothing for me to do.  The only thing I could do was feed my mind to keep me busy to keep me sane. 

I sit here and I have to be satisfied that this is all that I will do for the next twenty years.

 

 

"Just Toy"

Written Expressions

10/2007

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