Yesterday, after getting off of work, I checked my myspace. I haven't been on there in a while and I figured I probably had a few messages (especially since I am without a phone right now). Just as I thought, I had comments and messages from my friends in Baltimore. Every comment and message informed me that last Wednesday one of my homeboys was killed in a carry out. Shot in the head while picking up his food.
I sat and stared at my computer for a few moments just stuck. My family was laughing and talking behind me amongst themselves unaware of what I just read. I was at a lost for words because I didn't know what to say or do. As soon as I gathered myself, I quickly ran to get a phone and started calling everyone who left a number to be contacted for further information of the situation. After the initial, "Bitch, why da fuck can't niggas reach u?", conversations, They told me what happened.
Losing this particular person comes at a crazy time in my life. I'm dealing with a lot of drama (family and money stress mostly)... and now he's dead. I must admit we weren't that close, but we hung out every weekend at one point in my life. He was around when I was living the best life. Drinking, smoking and clubbing with my niggas. Going to the club 20+ deep, starting fights and getting kicked out only to go back and do the same thing all over again the next weekend. Sounds stupid now, but at 19 years old (without any real responsibilities) I didn't think life could be better than that.
Three years ago, I was at work and received a phone call informing that two of the guys I was closet to were shot and killed the night before. I lost it. I went crazy on my job, because I couldn't believe that. Everyone that I have lost before that (ie. my father, my grandparents) were sick and old and were dying. I had a chance to prepare. They didn't just die.
It was awhile before I really got over losing my "brothers". I developed a bond with them (as well as the others). They helped shaped me into the confident, "take no prisoners" girl that I am today. I stopped hanging out in Baltimore as much, not because I was scared, but I didn't really think that was a positive lifestyle. Then a year later I moved back to New York. Currently I'm trying to better my life. But I kept in touch with a few of them because it's love there. I'd ask about some of the others only to here that they involved in the same shit.
My question is, at what age do niggas start straightening out there lives? I'm 22 years old now. I done partied for days straight and thumped on chicks just because (being youngminded) . But I'm 22 years old now. I'm over that. I'm trying to get a career going before I reach 25. Maybe its an attainable goal, maybe not. But it's a goal. These streets aren't for a lifetime, they end lives short. No questions asked. Yeah these guys did dirt, but they weren't bad people. They were family orientated, they were loyal, good hearted, good spirited people... that couldn't stay the fuck off the block.
How many niggas have to die for other niggas to get the picture????
*Rest In Peace:
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