Growing up in the kind of neighborhood I did, people expected me to be just like the rest. They expected me to be a statistic, but I wasn’t. They expected me to end up in prison, but I’m more liberated than ever? They expected me to have a tombstone over my head, but little do they know, I’m more alive than I’ll ever be? What could I say? Where I grew up doesn’t reflect me or the mirror the kind of person I am. Obviously, people thought things should be just that. Going to school across the street from the projects, yup that’d make me just as rotten as the rest, but it didn’t even though it sshould have. Many ask why I turned out the way I did? If you asked while in my young days, I’d say that it’s all thanks to my God forsaken parents.

See even though, I went to school near the projects, I was never allowed to associate with it. Although my friends had parents that permitted them to do what ever they pleased and to speak how they feel, my parents had a tight hold and made sure that my grammar was on point. I guess that was their plan all along. To make positive that I didn’t end up in a life of crime and deceit. But I assume that when growing up as son of two well educated people in a poor environment, it’s inevitable be picked on and taunted just because you aren’t in the same category as they are. It’s inevitable to not stick out like a sore thumb just because you were raised to present yourself in a decent light. But when you are young and just entering the world, you never understand the ignorance’s of the the universe. You never understand its the ones that love you the most who mean no harm.

That’s why I blamed my parents. Blamed them because they’d never let me be ordinary. Instead of allowing me to blend in, they’d force me to blend out and I resented that. I was ashamed to bring my mom and dad around my school. For together, the kids at school, even my friends, thought we were a family combined of Martians from Mars. My father always well dressed and my mother never presented without class. That seemed unusual to them. Their parents wore bandanas and urban street wear, and everyday I wished my parents would do the same, but they didn’t.
But now that they are gone and looking over me, I regret that I never got the chance to thank them. To thank them for making so much effort in securing my outcome in life. To thank them for the exposing me to different worlds and lifestyles that were possible. To thank them for making sure that I didn’t have go through the same hardships they did. To thank them for helping me end up out of that life and successful. I appreciate it all.
Growing up in the kind of neighborhood I did, people expected me to be just like the rest. They expected me to be a statistic, but I wasn’t. They expected me to end up in prison, but I’m more liberated than ever? They expected me to have a tombstone over my head, but little do they know, I’m more alive than I’ll ever be? What could I say? Where I grew up doesn’t reflect me or the mirror the kind of person I am. Obviously, people thought things should be just that. Going to school across the street from the projects, yup that’d make me just as rotten as the rest, but it didn’t even though it should have. Many ask why I turned out the way I did? Now, that I’m old, gray, and way more I comprehensive, I say that it’s all thanks to having parents that some kids would die for.