Light can’t exist without darkness…

The flowers growing through manure… literal shit to blossom such eloquence.

And under the extreme pressure, the coal morphs into a diamond.

Without the hardships… without the pain… the frustrations… the hatred… One couldn’t be abundant and blissful without it.

As a child, the other kids didn’t want to acknowledge my existence, forcing me to use my imagination to experience “fun.”

I was often told to kill myself.

Meet the family.

Dad was either working or partying, which involved drugs and copious amounts of alcohol.

Every night, from what I can remember, there was a new group of poker players or another woman in the house.

He lived his life on 100% everyday, worked hard, and played hard.

He damn near ran the underground scene in town.

I’m pretty sure he may have killed a man, but I don’t know if that is true or not.

We all have skeletons in our closet and that’s where they shall stay.

This man wasn’t afraid to throw hands and dared you to try and hit him.

Walking into rooms, commanding attention, respect, and a confident aura so overwhelming that ladies wanted him and men wanted to be him.

In fact, this man would let you have the first swing, and you’d better make it count.

Just to end up having sex with your woman.

One day, he had a party at the house… and the party never ended…

Three days of non-stop drinking, smoking, and music.

I woke up to see him passed out on the ground one morning, and I rushed over to see if he was still okay.

His voice, which sounded like a dying man who has his throat cut, gurgling for air, said, “I’m fine.”

It only gets better.

Grandma didn’t want anything to do with me due to the fact that I reminded her of her kid, whom she feared.

This woman was a fiery ball of nails.

She was always right, even when wrong…

One day, she kept trying to have small talk with me, and still, I never learned how to engage with “So I saw a bird” or “Nice weather we’re having.”

So one day, I said, “I know, right?” to almost everything she said, and she swung out to smack me.

Now, this woman had those two inch thich rock rings and the overly bedazzled jewels, luckily she missed.

I dodged out of the way like you would when a dodge ball come at you, and you turn into the letter “C.”

Her face turned red…

She was madddddd and told me to go outside and play.

Remind you I’m 11 -12 years old.

I come in around 5 PM to eat 4-day-old leftovers, and right before I could take a bite..

WHAMMMM!

A backhand across the face, and she said, “That’s for dodging.”

Now, on the lighter side, there was my soft-spoken veteran grandad.

He never moved much… he just sat there in his chair…

Drinking… smoking his Marlboros, one after another… almost as if he was trying to speed up death for himself.

And grandad… well… he was a living corpse anyway.

Living in his own hell… forced to sit in his own feces for days until grandma gave him a spot bath.

She’d often yell, “I can’t wait for you to die,” but I thought that’s what all old marriages come to… but she meant it with every fiber of her being.

The last time we spoke, I asked him if there was anything else I should know… as a young man… was there anything you can pass on?

He told me something I’d never forget…

And to this day it hurts…

“Nope”

Was the last words I heard from him.

The only soul who was kind to a child who didn’t have a family… who he bought candy for… who bared the pain with me.

The only advice he gave me was summed up in one word… “Nope”.

Thanks, Grandad.

Not long after, I moved to New York City.

I was finally getting what I’ve always wanted as a kid…

Able to see and live with my mother.

But that ended up being a huge lesson.

You see, she’s a beautiful woman who didn’t have guidance either.

She was winging it and doing the best she could.

Her style was the opposite of what I was used to.

The “friend” approach made it a thrill…

But a child doesn’t need a friend.

They need a parent.

She too liked to drink and have a good time, not on the level as dad’s, but enough to make a fool out of herself.

Mother wasn’t around due to family drama and that whole spiel.

She was hated for speaking her truth.

A beautiful and promiscuous woman who the whole town knew.

She was influential, street smart, and gets what ever she wanted.

The family didn’t like that, so I was taken away from the social services.

She had four boys… but none of them are in each other’s lives.

This was devastating for her, and oftentimes, she’s never really recovered… mentally.

But it’s a kid’s job to be the parent, right?

Always worried about bills, even though I was too young to work, I’d never ask for money.

If the class was going on a field trip, I’d skip it because I didn’t want to ask for money.

However, when my older brother would ask, she would gripe about it while handing over her wallet.

Yet, I was hated for being the “favorite” child.

I’d see my brother every once in a while, and it’s always the same things with him.

Drugs, rap, sex, and fighting.

Mom would bail him out of jail, send him money for food, drugs, and even money for bus tickets to travel.

When the time’s I do ask, it’s never a good time, or she’s also broke.

Which is fine. I can’t be mad at that. A kid shouldn’t rely on their parents’ money.

Well, it is what it is.

My brother was murdered about 5 years ago.

Shot, burned, stripped, and tossed out of a car on a back road.

Probably drug-related… but that’s life.

A part of me feels bad because I still haven’t cried or mourned his death.

I’ve been too busy working.

No one to confide in…

No one to vent my frustrations to…

Perhaps that’s the reason why I’m writing this now.

I don’t have friends.

yet.

I don’t have someone I can call for immediate help.

yet.

I don’t get help, not because I didn’t ask…

But because no one can help me but me.

And from all this, I know what it’s like to be living in darkness.

Where the only light inside is you, and you alone.

It sucks.

So when someone asks for my help, I’m there to help.

But that only kills me deeply inside.

Such selflessness is selfish.

If you made it this far without a tear in your eye, good.

This isn’t meant to be a sad read.

I wrote this to vent… to blow off steam… because everything in this story is true.

My family is more dysfunctional than the Jackson 5.

I was alone.

I am succeeding.

I am becoming.

Hopefully, this gave you some motivation, knowing that no matter what you do, where you come from, or where you’re at, you can overcome anything.

Everything happens for a reason, and for some reason, my soul chose the “Hard” mode.

Why? Because it’s more fun that way.

Keep being your own light in your world of darkness.