Pioneer in these destitute streets. If they all go left, it’s a guarantee I’m to the right. Loner. No compromise, steady feet. Pathway cleared by God himself. Gave up on security from the hands of a man, friends, or a career. Used to deal with the pressure by blowing my cares away. I started smoking heavily after Kenya’s murder. I would easily roll six to eight blunts a day, solo. I didn’t need anyone with me to be high. I liked the feeling of not feeling. People would talk, but I didn’t have to listen. Bad news would come but it couldn’t touch me. The weed took me away. I couldn’t move forward while remaining. If I’m honest, I still miss it sometimes. I’d rather have God than tree, though, so I eventually had to make a decision. Intentional.
One Sunday, there was a young girl who looked to be seventeen years old who came in after services were over. “Hey beautiful,” I greeted her with a smile as she came into the door. Our eyes locked. There was nothing behind her stare. Empty shell. It scared me because it was the first time I had actually seen that. A body with no life. I usually press in, but something about her eyes told me to let her pass through. Something else has taken over my sister. She was simply a shell full of rage, full of fear, of anger. I could literally see she was being held hostage, causing any real communication to be impossible to receive.
I turned my head to break our locked stares. I said a silent prayer for her as I watched her walk down the street. My heart beats for lost sheep like her. I remember that stare, that silent cry for help. Daily trauma has normalized pain and lack. Waking up in an emergency state daily does something to one’s consciousness. Everyone handles that type of pressure differently. Judgments should be passed with much caution, because you never know what a person has had to witness and carry through their journey in life. It’s easy to say what you wouldn’t do when you’ve never been faced with certain obstacles. Get hungry enough, tired enough, broke enough, and scared enough, hurt enough, you won’t really know how you will handle the pressure until you are personally faced with the burden.
I dealt with the pressures of life in many different ways. Relationships, friendship, money, status, material things, sex, drugs, fun, avoidance, denial. The world is not lacking when it comes to finding things to fill up voids. Nothing seemed to satisfy me; once one thing was up, I had to find a replacement. I guess I just got tired of having sleepless nights when my bed was empty, or the weed was gone. I would be around friends but still feel alone. Nothing seemed to be enough for me. I was literally dying of thirst. I didn’t even realize I was thirsty until I came to the end of my fairytale. The night Kenya was murdered was like a light switch going off in my heart. I thought I was pretty put together and secure in life, and in an instant, everything changed. The light was on exposing the truth of my nature. I was a child, insecure, naïve, alone. I was exposed. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and realized I didn’t know who I was.