at the almost the tail end of my “extra” days i finally crossed paths with a man i should have met years earlier.
for the sake of anonymity we will just call him ru.
the first time i noticed him, and the fifty leventh time he noticed me but talked to me. (apparently he thought i swang for the opposite team and was just extra girly) i made him come get me from my house in the hood.
he pulled up in a lexus. i walked out at 5am. hoes on the corner. crack house in full effect across the street. and him just cracking up that my extra white ass lived in the middle of the hood. the real hood and wasnt joking when i said yeah, come get me.
but my ass is going to have a few drinks and pass out.
years later, that still makes us both laugh.
because that’s what happened.
at the time i started rehab, he may have been one of the few people that understood. he’d been blurped and was going to diversion classes. he saw me at some pretty ugly moments and a few times even rescued me from strange situations.
even gave me money to get away from a situation, but i never felt completely right because i snorted his money up my nose. somehow, i think he knew thats what was going to happen.
he’s in prison now. ive wrote him a few times and honestly, im not sure what i can say positive anymore… at one point i thought i wanted that “thug it out bitch” life but i dont know i dont want to pay for your phone calls to my phone.
yes, a gangsta can be a gentleman but really do i want that in my life?
i have not wrote him since april. im not sure what more to say to him than shit just really wouldnt work with us…like unless when you get out you want to get a job, a real job and go past affiliations.
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