i dont know where this is going.
i cannot predict the future.

all i can say is that i have a fantastic feeling.
i feel brand new.
humbled. broken and destroyed.
i arise from my own wreckage to be a better me.

looking around, i see all that i have accrued over the past few years: nothing.
therefore, i have nothing to lose.

i can only go up.

wait, i lied.

i did gain something.

a peace of mind.



finally.

and it starts

Before I go on to tell you the details of my little journey, it is probably wise to tell you of my other endeavors. There have been many. All with one main goal: to prepare the citizens for the revolution.
ironically enough, i dont do much talking during these little quest. Wisdom and guidance do not always need words.

they do not know that i am coming. they do not know, yet, of my mission.
they believe that i am dead.
and it has been ten long years since they've noticed me.
but from here on out, my existence can no longer be a secret. if i am to continue my journey then they will find out about me.

but, how do you find nobody?

no title.

you see me and say i'm suspect,

and thats what ive grown to expect.

momma told me that thats the way its always been.

im bad cause im black.

ive got it bad cause im black.

and, honestly, i was quite okay with that.

before.

but now, you're publicly executing me.

taking my life for no reason outside your own paranoia.

tormenting my mother. giving my father the finger.

depressing my sister. and terrifying my brothers.

and somehow, im the suspicious one.

im suspicious when you've stolen the very land you call home.

when you stole the labor it took to make this land into a home.

im the suspect but never once has anyone who ever looked like me killed off an entire race.

nor, enslaved every race under the mighty sun.

i've been bashed and ashamed for every wrong i've done.

but you hide your mistakes and rewrite the textbooks.

no. im not suspicious. you just need a place to vent your inner turmoil.

i am not the killer or the thief or the rapist or the liar or the embellisher.

but i will become those things.

fire vs fire. and i am satan.

i fight with centuries of anguish and mourning in my arsenal.

you fight out of fear.

and the cowards never live.

my people need not stand beside me, for they are afraid too.

consider yourself lucky. lucky that we once sided with Martin and not Malcolm.

but this is a war i can win without them.

wake up

i am standing alone, outside as the sun begins it's ascent.

the sky is still damp and dark. the air is murky. it is the most unpleasant time to be awake.
nothing good comes forth during this hour. ghosts haunt, people begin to wake up for work, the "heat of the moment" dies down and one sobers up.

but i've stood outside for such a long time. waiting. just waiting.
the hours lost no longer mean anything to me. failures and D minuses are trashed and burned.

Batman knew that both darkness and light can only last but for so long. that is why he had two identities. but even he had troubles keeping the two separate.
one must experience both and watch the light grow into dim depression.

and now, the sun must finally rise.
as its rays pierce the sky, warning the night to make way, still i stand.
waiting. watching.

black turns to purple. purple to orange. and, soon, orange to blue.

i've stood still, complacent, confused, depressed, furious and needy in this darkness for so long.
it is time to let such feelings pass like the night.

the sun is rising.

i hear my inner self asking, "what time is it?"

i let the question sit for a moment, knowing time is running short.
with closed eyes, i sigh one last time. the road ahead is no longer the easy one i've grown accustomed to walking. but now it is illuminated with the light unknown, yet, to mankind for my will and determination and desperation have been lit.

again, inner-self ask, "what time is it?" this time, they sound more distant. less close.
the journey has already begun when i reply without the usual cocky smile, or enlightened wisdom, with nothing more than simple focus,
"its time to go."

life narrative.

its been some time since the introspective question, "who am i?" crossed my mind.
but we're past that now. i know who i am.

the real question is, "how does who i am trump the challenges i go through?"
more simply put: how do i get ahead?

honestly, i regret all 22 years of my life. every last one. without exempt or exception.
and they, whoever "they" are, say that you haven't lived a full life until you have a few regrets.

but i have a full life of regrets (maybe thats why i always feel so old..)
i've made all the wrong decisions. i've loved all the wrong people. said the wrong things. so on and so forth.

the only thing worth while that i've managed to do was learn. 22 years worth of hardcore trial and error learning. thus, wisdom. or something of such nature.

i look at the mirror and i see the past.
i see past me in his roughest state. hair uncut, wispy whiskers, tired eyes.
and in the same frame, i see the me trying to get past the past me.

its a silent struggle.

i look here at these words now and see that i can no longer make the same mistakes.
i cant keep telling the same stories. i'm not tyler perry.
i am tarrance foster. thats who i am.
what does that mean? well, what does that matter?
i am who i am. and i must use what little i know to outsmart myself.

things won't happen in my favor if i don't hold the gun to the dealer's head.

so here i am. sitting in silence on my day off. wondering.

standing isn't the problem. its moving thats hard.

if anybody reads this.
hell, if anybody understands,

watch out.

signed,
a new man.
(but whats that matter?)

return.

been sulking lately. hence, the lack of posts.

but im back. my balls have re-dropped and im a man again.
22 now. oh joy.

yeah. theres your life update. if you cared.

the pictures.

my memory has gone bad.
but i remember you. not all of you but your essence.
sometimes, i see pictures of you in my head.
moments we've lived out together:

one is of you next to me on a long bus ride to nowhere. your big eyes looking at me the way they did. glowing, it feels like. in my sweathood. you were beautiful.

i remember seeing you in a bathroom, standing against the sink, staring at me, inviting me.
i remember taking that invitation.

i see you in front of me, confessing something. still with those eyes.
Jesus, i could never forget those eyes.

my memory has gone bad, but i could never...

i see you standing over my bed. me behind you. sunlight beaming inside. your chocolate skin melting into mine. i remember feeling like someone painted us there. Maybe God, Maybe satan, maybe Us.

Us.

i remember those eyes.

but i don't remember why.