Keep it a buck

Wasted

•Oakland Shakur•

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." -Laurell K. Hamilton

I've danced with the devil many times. Stared death in the face on numerous occasions and here I still am. I must be God's favorite because he has yet to cut my lifeline. Too many failed attempts at ending my life tattoo my wrists as old reminders. What made me so special that I was still existing?

I stand in the mirror looking at my reflection. Positive affirmations that hadn't worked since I put them up there block parts of my body. My insecurities are worn on my sleeve visible for every eye that gets put on me to see. I'm the poster child for the lack of self-love and acceptance from my environment. Instead of seeing myself I see this soulless being trapped in a box with no way of escape.

I suffer from depression, insecurities, and emotional abuse. I never grew up in a household where self love was taught. I got passed around from household to household like a blunt. The only love around me that I saw was of drugs and money. No one ever sat me down to teach me how to appreciate and care for myself. So when times got like this it took a minute for me to get out of my head and go on with life.

My phone buzzes indicating a call. I try my best to ignore it and climb into bed wanting today to be over. I throw my blanket on myself and turn my fan on the highest setting. My phone rings again causing my patience to wear thin. I wait for the call to stop before I turn the phone off completely.

"Yo Pac come bring yo ass outta there, we about to ride out." My mentor and very close friend Black calls out from the other side of the door. I remain quiet hoping and praying he'd go away.

The door knob jiggles and before long footsteps come over to my bed. I stay as still as possible and play sleep. The cover is slung from my body making me regret giving him a key to my apartment. My eyes roll up to meet an agitated but understanding Black.

"Dude!"

"Put some clothes on so we can leave."

"I don't feel like going."

"I don't give a fuck 'bout whatcha feel like. Getcha ass up before I do it for you. And you know I'm a man of my word so don't try me."

"That rough shit don't work on me, try again." I roll over with my back to him and grab the small blanket still in my bed.

"Aight gotchu."

"Fuck!" My body is pulled out of bed before I fall ass first on my bedroom floor. I extend my leg out and kick him."Let me sleep damn."

"You got ten minutes to get dressed and you better not wear that funky ass hoodie either."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going?"

"You can repeat that shit until you're blue in the face but you doing it while getting dressed."

"I hate you bruh."

"You can feel that way as long as you feeling somethin'." He takes a seat on my bed and gets comfortable. I sit there for a second contemplating whether I should do as he says or suffer the consequences. My eyes shift to him seeing that he meant business. I know all too well what he's capable of when he didn't get his way so I decide to get up and get dressed.