i am not too happy that i have this title, that i am the second Tarrance Bernard Foster. But i am. and each day i see it more and more. each day, i watch myself become more of that man. the woman he fucked and birthed me too often mentions the visual resemblance and has alluded to the same on a mental state. i see this as well.
and it pisses me of. a response he, too, would have. if my channeled anger could ever be matched, it is by him. i remember many a night the two of us riding to nowhere in his Chevy Suburban, him with a beer in his hand, playing another Tupac album and reminding his only son of how its just him in the world. how he knew i hated him even before i did. how everything he had was going to be in my name. how much he loved me.
years ago...i did love this man. i idolized him. but even a young soul can only withstand so much. there was a fine line between love and hate. he erased it and forced me to draw my own boarders. sadly, no person, after that day, could find that line. no person could cross what they couldnt see. no person knew of my love and i cared not for theirs.
this man is trying to regain access to my life. with nowhere to turn, i am forced to grant him his desire. many tell me that it might be a good decision. i have my doubts.
but i see him. i feel him in me. daily i want to taste alcohol until i forget all of my troubles. i hear his angry voice inside my head. i spat words of hate as though i a fluent in the language of disdain. i see his burning hazel eyes. i look in the mirror and see him...his hairless face stares at me until i can no longer look.
i am not fond of this man. and still i am his junior. his names keeps me near to him. and she wants to name our son the same...if i cannot change the legacy then he, too, will feel this hatred. the hatred of a father's son
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
hurricane season
i believe i love this time of year. the beginning of the academic year. when it is still hot enough to wear shorts and beaters to the pool but often windy enough to don a hoodie. it is often gloomy, grey clouds, light showers, thunderstorms. fitting of my personality, sadly. i have come to the conclusion that i am something of an "emo". i often wear black, i walk alone more so than with a group, my favorite songs are somber ones, "hate" rolls off my tongue like "love" should and i prefer darkness to light (i am only a few nerves short of cutting myself).
i dont think im happy. im not sure what all happiness consist of, but i'm pretty sure it lacks in my life. she remedies that, but only for short periods of time (which are now shorter cause shes gone). i even believe that my unhappiness is spilling over effecting my relationship. sometimes i need an escape, and no longer can she provide that for me. between her friends, social life and school work, i find little area to squeeze my hoggish ways into her life. i may text to receive a response many minuets or hours later when i forget the initial text in the first place. i choose not to bring this to her attention for i wish not to seem too...greedy. she has her own life and must live it. thus, i must do the same.
this is possibly a call to arms. a poem rings over and over in my head, to remind me of my refusal to be defeated.
"thank whatever gods may be for his unconquerable soul [...] though my head may be bloody it remains unbowed"
i do not enjoy my life. each day i let death know that i am ready. each day i wish i was elsewhere. each day i curse this life. each morning i curse my mother, who lays her hand on me as though she cares, for this life. each day, i curse myself for allowing myself to become a failure. each day...each and every fucking day i remember how much i hate this life.
and more sadly than knowing that i hate this life is knowing that i have to continue to live it.
that is my truth. i must live this out...i must remain on this island until hurricane season ceases.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
13th day
the day marking the official start of my depression. my life had begun to fall apart thirteen days ago and i watched it. the enforcement of a ten o'clock curfew, the threat of being put out, the departure of my girlfriend and escape, the departure of my bestfriend and the reappearance of my "father".
i tried to escape it all. to push it back into a place in my head where nothing really matters. but like a unruly bastard child, it refused to stay put.
as a final attempt to keep depression at bay, i went into downtown Atlanta to look for a job. to at least try and show my "mother" (who shall be referred to as mrs.moore) that i was trying. dressed in slacks, shirt and tie i walked all of corporate Atlanta. asking banks, restaurants, inns, hotels and motels alike if they were hiring. none were, and if i was lucky enough to find a place that said they were, i had to return home to fill out the application online.
sitting on a bench realizing that my entire trip, that my sore feet, sweaty back, headache, aching knees and hunger were all for nothing, i allowed myself to succumb to the omen of my thirteenth day. needing motivation, i texted my girlfriend and waited. no response. i remembered that she was driving to mississippi that day and probably didnt realize her phone rang. i felt defeated.
i walked more under the blazing sun, hearing nothing but rejection. eventually my tired feet stopped listening to where my brain told them to go. they lead me to georgia state university. knowing that i have a few friends attending that college, i began to text them. i met up with people who used to make me laugh and feel good about myself.
Imari who i used to always disagree with on everything from racial issues to good music to women. we could never find a medium but our differences made us best of friends. she would often help me with my female problems as i did the same for her.
Amber who was better known as "Killa Amb" and was even more known for her offbeat humor. there was a unknown connection that we shared. a sense of humor that only quick minds could keep up with. we both were always laughing at something that probably wasnt funny.
Brittany who was considered by the school to be my 11th grade girlfriend, though we hardly dated. still good friends, we shared many a laugh (most of which were derived from stories about the other).
Ashley, someone i met through a mutual friend but having never seen until recently. most of out "talking" was done through text messaging. and still we found a connection.
all of these people helped me forget the troubles of my world.
having walked for ten hours, killa invited me to see her room where we ate apple sauce and watched tv.
upon my departure from gsu, i decided that maybe i could spend my next few years of college there. i tried to crunch the numbers in my head and concluded that i could afford it and still have plenty to eat. with a part-time job i could pay to get my own cell phone in order to complete my escape from the moore family. depression begun its lift as i found a slimmer of hope.
i rode home with my mother who complained about having to pick me up from a certain spot although she had been in her spacious and air conditioned office all day whereas i was outside in the 90 degree weather. walking the hour back to her job was physically impossible at this point.
i long for the day that the owners of this home will come home and live their lives as usual expecting me to be home at ten. i yearn for the moment where i can vanish from the face of the earth without them knowing where or how to find me. i desire for the year that i will randomly mail them a wedding invitation after so many years of not being heard from.
oh how i want escape.
as depression and emptiness roll on, i am attempting to pull myself out of this hole. by the end of this month, something will have happened. either i will be attempting to enroll in school, i will have a job and be working towards an apartment, i will be living with Tarrance sr or i will have enlisted in the military.
those are my escape routes and in ten days, one will have been used.
i tried to escape it all. to push it back into a place in my head where nothing really matters. but like a unruly bastard child, it refused to stay put.
as a final attempt to keep depression at bay, i went into downtown Atlanta to look for a job. to at least try and show my "mother" (who shall be referred to as mrs.moore) that i was trying. dressed in slacks, shirt and tie i walked all of corporate Atlanta. asking banks, restaurants, inns, hotels and motels alike if they were hiring. none were, and if i was lucky enough to find a place that said they were, i had to return home to fill out the application online.
sitting on a bench realizing that my entire trip, that my sore feet, sweaty back, headache, aching knees and hunger were all for nothing, i allowed myself to succumb to the omen of my thirteenth day. needing motivation, i texted my girlfriend and waited. no response. i remembered that she was driving to mississippi that day and probably didnt realize her phone rang. i felt defeated.
i walked more under the blazing sun, hearing nothing but rejection. eventually my tired feet stopped listening to where my brain told them to go. they lead me to georgia state university. knowing that i have a few friends attending that college, i began to text them. i met up with people who used to make me laugh and feel good about myself.
Imari who i used to always disagree with on everything from racial issues to good music to women. we could never find a medium but our differences made us best of friends. she would often help me with my female problems as i did the same for her.
Amber who was better known as "Killa Amb" and was even more known for her offbeat humor. there was a unknown connection that we shared. a sense of humor that only quick minds could keep up with. we both were always laughing at something that probably wasnt funny.
Brittany who was considered by the school to be my 11th grade girlfriend, though we hardly dated. still good friends, we shared many a laugh (most of which were derived from stories about the other).
Ashley, someone i met through a mutual friend but having never seen until recently. most of out "talking" was done through text messaging. and still we found a connection.
all of these people helped me forget the troubles of my world.
having walked for ten hours, killa invited me to see her room where we ate apple sauce and watched tv.
upon my departure from gsu, i decided that maybe i could spend my next few years of college there. i tried to crunch the numbers in my head and concluded that i could afford it and still have plenty to eat. with a part-time job i could pay to get my own cell phone in order to complete my escape from the moore family. depression begun its lift as i found a slimmer of hope.
i rode home with my mother who complained about having to pick me up from a certain spot although she had been in her spacious and air conditioned office all day whereas i was outside in the 90 degree weather. walking the hour back to her job was physically impossible at this point.
i long for the day that the owners of this home will come home and live their lives as usual expecting me to be home at ten. i yearn for the moment where i can vanish from the face of the earth without them knowing where or how to find me. i desire for the year that i will randomly mail them a wedding invitation after so many years of not being heard from.
oh how i want escape.
as depression and emptiness roll on, i am attempting to pull myself out of this hole. by the end of this month, something will have happened. either i will be attempting to enroll in school, i will have a job and be working towards an apartment, i will be living with Tarrance sr or i will have enlisted in the military.
those are my escape routes and in ten days, one will have been used.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
12th day
i just stood there, watching her. watching the tears fall down her cheeks. her eyes had long since turned red. goodbye couldn't have been harder. car door closed, window up, all she had to do was pull off. but she couldnt, and i could tell. she demanded that i walk into the house, to make her departure easier. i couldnt. the goddess of love herself kept me in that spot on the hot pavement.
i would not open her door and kiss her for i had just closed the same door just moments ago. it would only bring more tears. she fought with the ignition, battled with the steering wheel and lost to her own will. the past few days were filled with sorrow and memories. sorrow for her departure. the memories that would have to hold us over until we met again.
i walked onto the driveway in front of my house, checked the mail, and remained in front of the woman i hold so dear. in front of her white jeep which i was supposed to wash. she pulled up, inching past my stick-like body.
windows still up she mouthed, "I love you."
i mouthed the same back, "and i'll be right here when you come back."
she rolled her window down, "pinky swear." i met her curled pinky with my own, a custom we had developed during some of our more somber moments. the same custom that was first laughed at by her.
"Pinky swear." our hands struggle with each other and fingers find themselves gridlocked loosely.
ironically, we held hands the same way as she left the day we called ourselves a couple.
"Five, fourteen, oh eight," in reference to the picture of our hands taken that day.
the memories flooded my mind. from that day forward: our first outing, her first time at Atlantic station, meeting her family and friends, her doing the same for me, my birthday, the sleepover, our first sexual experience, public sex, our last sexual experience. all of which started from that day.
the laughs we have shared, the tears we have shed,the troubles we have endured and the love we have all have created this warm sensation that i am told is love. but it goes much deeper than just love...much, much deeper.
before i can allow myself to indulge in such memories, i watch as the world around me starts to blur. the rivers of memories well up in my eyes but i told myself i would not cry today. i was done crying last night. my hand slips away and i step back. she wipes her tears, states that shes ok now. that that was all she needed. she gains control of the steering wheel and slowly inches up , throwing me the peace sign. i return the gesture.
just as i save the tears from gravity and look back up, she is halfway up the street. i watch her in disbelief. watch her drive to her future, her success, her other life. my heart becomes heavy. my soul grows weak. my body, numb. she turns the corner and is gone...gone. and i am alone. all friends, off to college. my "family", is my problem. and my escape, gone.
i find myself alone.
i drag my feet back into the house. throw the mail on the table, slam my head on the table and let the memories fall. i cry. i told my self i wouldn't and i lied.
with one final sigh, realizing that there is noting i can do, i stand to my feet and begin life. while my friends work for a better tomorrow, i will work for a better today. i will make good use of my time. for in three short years...i will have a family.
but in less than twelve hours she will be gone
and it will be my 13th day
i will be officially depressed..
i would not open her door and kiss her for i had just closed the same door just moments ago. it would only bring more tears. she fought with the ignition, battled with the steering wheel and lost to her own will. the past few days were filled with sorrow and memories. sorrow for her departure. the memories that would have to hold us over until we met again.
i walked onto the driveway in front of my house, checked the mail, and remained in front of the woman i hold so dear. in front of her white jeep which i was supposed to wash. she pulled up, inching past my stick-like body.
windows still up she mouthed, "I love you."
i mouthed the same back, "and i'll be right here when you come back."
she rolled her window down, "pinky swear." i met her curled pinky with my own, a custom we had developed during some of our more somber moments. the same custom that was first laughed at by her.
"Pinky swear." our hands struggle with each other and fingers find themselves gridlocked loosely.
ironically, we held hands the same way as she left the day we called ourselves a couple.
"Five, fourteen, oh eight," in reference to the picture of our hands taken that day.
the memories flooded my mind. from that day forward: our first outing, her first time at Atlantic station, meeting her family and friends, her doing the same for me, my birthday, the sleepover, our first sexual experience, public sex, our last sexual experience. all of which started from that day.
the laughs we have shared, the tears we have shed,the troubles we have endured and the love we have all have created this warm sensation that i am told is love. but it goes much deeper than just love...much, much deeper.
before i can allow myself to indulge in such memories, i watch as the world around me starts to blur. the rivers of memories well up in my eyes but i told myself i would not cry today. i was done crying last night. my hand slips away and i step back. she wipes her tears, states that shes ok now. that that was all she needed. she gains control of the steering wheel and slowly inches up , throwing me the peace sign. i return the gesture.
just as i save the tears from gravity and look back up, she is halfway up the street. i watch her in disbelief. watch her drive to her future, her success, her other life. my heart becomes heavy. my soul grows weak. my body, numb. she turns the corner and is gone...gone. and i am alone. all friends, off to college. my "family", is my problem. and my escape, gone.
i find myself alone.
i drag my feet back into the house. throw the mail on the table, slam my head on the table and let the memories fall. i cry. i told my self i wouldn't and i lied.
with one final sigh, realizing that there is noting i can do, i stand to my feet and begin life. while my friends work for a better tomorrow, i will work for a better today. i will make good use of my time. for in three short years...i will have a family.
but in less than twelve hours she will be gone
and it will be my 13th day
i will be officially depressed..
Monday, August 18, 2008
11th day
lay in my bed.7:00 pm. once i heard that if one is aware of their depression for thirteen days, then they are truly depressed. this is day 11. so i lay and watch the sun fall from behind closed blinds.
i watch time pass. its dark outside now and within the past eleven days i have cried more than i have in 18 years. 9:10, a phone call. the only one that will get answered. i pick up, "Hello?"
"Heller??" the woman on the other line replies.
"Mmmhum," conversation follows, most of which i strain my voice to mask my uneasiness. i mask the tears in my voice. i mask the fact that the tears wont stop, cant stop. i keep my composure , and when i cant i dont speak. this almost impossible task last for about an hour until she must go.
i continue to lay
i have enough time to let my eyes dry and let the cold stare return. i have reached homeostasis. when another woman enters my room. the woman who birthed me and thus has me eternally in her debt. i owe her for a life i am not happy with. i owe her for a life i didnt ask for. but i owe her. she has only appeared to give her next order that i must fulfill. its her second one today as this is my second time seeing her. its a simple order. "Wash the dishes," as she leaves the room. "I owe her," i remind myself as motivation to complete the task at hand.
i feel my body get up without my command. auto-pilot. emotionless, it walks downstairs and begins to work. my ipod is in sync with my mind and plays a more melancholy list of songs, many of which i havent heard in some time. a single light remains on above my head, the rest of the world is dark. i look up to see my reflection in the window.
its funny. instead of showing me whats ahead, what i desire, what isnt here...all i see is myself. thats how my life has always been.
i hate this life...that is the conclusion i have drawn.
my mother left me for a Navy man. the same Navy man who has implemented a 10 o' clock curfew for a 19 year old male. the same 19 year old who he so desperately wants out of his house.
my father never had me to leave. i have hated him for as long as i have been making my own mind. and now, when i could use that much more stress, he decides he wants to mend our relationship. my father is dead. i am a bastard child with no dad. i have a Tarrance sr and a financial provider.
the one person who gave me peace is escaping. she has found her way out and is taking it, leaving me behind.
i am stuck...with a life i didnt ask for. with a life i dont want. i am not happy
and in two days i'll be officially depressed.
i watch time pass. its dark outside now and within the past eleven days i have cried more than i have in 18 years. 9:10, a phone call. the only one that will get answered. i pick up, "Hello?"
"Heller??" the woman on the other line replies.
"Mmmhum," conversation follows, most of which i strain my voice to mask my uneasiness. i mask the tears in my voice. i mask the fact that the tears wont stop, cant stop. i keep my composure , and when i cant i dont speak. this almost impossible task last for about an hour until she must go.
i continue to lay
i have enough time to let my eyes dry and let the cold stare return. i have reached homeostasis. when another woman enters my room. the woman who birthed me and thus has me eternally in her debt. i owe her for a life i am not happy with. i owe her for a life i didnt ask for. but i owe her. she has only appeared to give her next order that i must fulfill. its her second one today as this is my second time seeing her. its a simple order. "Wash the dishes," as she leaves the room. "I owe her," i remind myself as motivation to complete the task at hand.
i feel my body get up without my command. auto-pilot. emotionless, it walks downstairs and begins to work. my ipod is in sync with my mind and plays a more melancholy list of songs, many of which i havent heard in some time. a single light remains on above my head, the rest of the world is dark. i look up to see my reflection in the window.
its funny. instead of showing me whats ahead, what i desire, what isnt here...all i see is myself. thats how my life has always been.
i hate this life...that is the conclusion i have drawn.
my mother left me for a Navy man. the same Navy man who has implemented a 10 o' clock curfew for a 19 year old male. the same 19 year old who he so desperately wants out of his house.
my father never had me to leave. i have hated him for as long as i have been making my own mind. and now, when i could use that much more stress, he decides he wants to mend our relationship. my father is dead. i am a bastard child with no dad. i have a Tarrance sr and a financial provider.
the one person who gave me peace is escaping. she has found her way out and is taking it, leaving me behind.
i am stuck...with a life i didnt ask for. with a life i dont want. i am not happy
and in two days i'll be officially depressed.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
one of those sleepless nights
yes i did just write an entry, but my mind cannot stop. i'm lost in a sea of emotions trying to stay afloat on this raft of words. i feel it slowly sinking.
nothing in this world of mine is going in the right direction. i see failure quickly approaching. i am destined to live the life of a bum under the overpass. what do i want out of life? i want to write. i want people to enjoy my poetry as they do on facebook and myspace. but poetry isnt "in the market now", as i was told by a publisher rep. "everyone thinks they can write poetry," and they are fucking my dream up. he suggested i write a series, so i tried a little experiment. on facebook, i wrote a little trapped in the closet/zane/ignorant nigga story. and as i expected, the niggas ate it up and begged for more. i gave. the series is a three part set, and still they beg for a fourth and fifth and sixth. in my favorite book 'ERAsure' (thank you Z-co), the main character hides behind an alias in order to write a book that will satisfy the leeching critics and public, a book that is completely different from his norm. i took a walk in his shoes with this series. my poems are usually dark and somewhat suicidal where as this series (entitled "Oh God" (his book was called "FUCK")) was just a bunch of coonery: sex, guns, adultery, drama. the series has gotten so much publicity amongst my friends that its annoying. if i have to write garbage to even be noticed...what lows will i have to stoop to to even be recognized in the published world? thus, i have given up on my dream of becoming a writer. i will settle for a desk job and not being an author of a book inducted into Oprah's book club or whatever.
the owners of the house i currently stay in have (for many years) told me that i am in a constant "woe is me" type of thing. i thought about it...and still i disagree. now, i am king pessimist but i never want any kind of attention and damn sure no sympathy. which adds to the many reasons why we dont get along. they simply dont understand. they haven't the slightest clue about any thought, goal, inspiration, feeling, emotion or anything that goes on in my world. but they construe everything to fit the way they want it to which just so happens to be the exact opposite of what they WANT it to be. so, how i see it, in their lack of knowledge, in their sheer ignorance, they have twisted me into this unmotivated, lax , rude, uncaring asshole.(ill give them the rude asshole part). being so far misunderstood by people who you cant avoid can lead to unmeasurable amounts of frustration. one can only imagine why we dont get along now.
lately, i have been pondering: what is the purpose of life and why do we fear death? is this entire charade just a test, or a show to please God. to convince him that we are good enough to be let into his pearly gates. and if heaven is such a better place then why do so many fear death? i dont. i believe once you have understood that life is actually completely pointless and realize that death is not only inevitable and inescapable but also the gateway to a better being, fear becomes a thing of the past. if God controls all, then he also controls when, where and how the end will come. no bother trying to take the long road home or staying far from the seemingly "bad" parts of town for if God wants you to die, you will. fear is a pointless emotion, as pointless as tears. and still as a human, i am burdened with this bullshit. i do not fear death. i do not fear physical harm. i do not fear much, except failure.
i believe i have reached a shore. and these words have carried me safely through the dangerous sea of thoughts. having reached a place where i can almost enjoy the high tide, i believe i can put an end to this rambling.
sometimes
i just need to face the dangers of the drink
only to see
how deep i can get
nothing in this world of mine is going in the right direction. i see failure quickly approaching. i am destined to live the life of a bum under the overpass. what do i want out of life? i want to write. i want people to enjoy my poetry as they do on facebook and myspace. but poetry isnt "in the market now", as i was told by a publisher rep. "everyone thinks they can write poetry," and they are fucking my dream up. he suggested i write a series, so i tried a little experiment. on facebook, i wrote a little trapped in the closet/zane/ignorant nigga story. and as i expected, the niggas ate it up and begged for more. i gave. the series is a three part set, and still they beg for a fourth and fifth and sixth. in my favorite book 'ERAsure' (thank you Z-co), the main character hides behind an alias in order to write a book that will satisfy the leeching critics and public, a book that is completely different from his norm. i took a walk in his shoes with this series. my poems are usually dark and somewhat suicidal where as this series (entitled "Oh God" (his book was called "FUCK")) was just a bunch of coonery: sex, guns, adultery, drama. the series has gotten so much publicity amongst my friends that its annoying. if i have to write garbage to even be noticed...what lows will i have to stoop to to even be recognized in the published world? thus, i have given up on my dream of becoming a writer. i will settle for a desk job and not being an author of a book inducted into Oprah's book club or whatever.
the owners of the house i currently stay in have (for many years) told me that i am in a constant "woe is me" type of thing. i thought about it...and still i disagree. now, i am king pessimist but i never want any kind of attention and damn sure no sympathy. which adds to the many reasons why we dont get along. they simply dont understand. they haven't the slightest clue about any thought, goal, inspiration, feeling, emotion or anything that goes on in my world. but they construe everything to fit the way they want it to which just so happens to be the exact opposite of what they WANT it to be. so, how i see it, in their lack of knowledge, in their sheer ignorance, they have twisted me into this unmotivated, lax , rude, uncaring asshole.(ill give them the rude asshole part). being so far misunderstood by people who you cant avoid can lead to unmeasurable amounts of frustration. one can only imagine why we dont get along now.
lately, i have been pondering: what is the purpose of life and why do we fear death? is this entire charade just a test, or a show to please God. to convince him that we are good enough to be let into his pearly gates. and if heaven is such a better place then why do so many fear death? i dont. i believe once you have understood that life is actually completely pointless and realize that death is not only inevitable and inescapable but also the gateway to a better being, fear becomes a thing of the past. if God controls all, then he also controls when, where and how the end will come. no bother trying to take the long road home or staying far from the seemingly "bad" parts of town for if God wants you to die, you will. fear is a pointless emotion, as pointless as tears. and still as a human, i am burdened with this bullshit. i do not fear death. i do not fear physical harm. i do not fear much, except failure.
i believe i have reached a shore. and these words have carried me safely through the dangerous sea of thoughts. having reached a place where i can almost enjoy the high tide, i believe i can put an end to this rambling.
sometimes
i just need to face the dangers of the drink
only to see
how deep i can get
up the road
for so many years now, i have kept a journal/diary. "The diary of a sinner", "Enter Tarrance Foster pt.1",Enter Tarrance Foster pt.2", and now this one. the majority of my previous entries in my previous journals have been about my "love life". immature, i know, but it was all i knew. as i have matured i can find many things to write about (we all have to start somewhere, right?)
but at 4:01am on this Saturday morning, i will return to my previous self.
as i have begun this journey of life after college failure, i find the road not only rocky but simply unbearable. the many negative emotions that swell within this already scorn soul keep me on edge. i am not a happy person. i find it hard to smile, harder to laugh and impossible to forgive. and still, i managed to find love. love in a person much like myself. love for a person nearly as troubled as myself. love. a love that cannot be torn by time or distance as it is soon to be tested by both. which is the EXACT reason for this entry.
my entire life i have encountered people who make living easier for me, only to lose them soon after accepting them: Tarrance sr., a few cousins, good friends in middle school, better friends in high school, and the best friends in college but more importantly, my current girlfriend. she is soon to continue her college lifestyle in Jackson, Mississippi whereas i am to begin my adulthood here in atlanta.
returning home after experiencing college has been nothing less than hell itself, she has made the regression easier with her late night words of encouragement and admiration. many a night, i have watched this woman drive from my presence and still it has not been easy. one would think i would get used to it...and simply knowing that in two weeks time i will watch her leave for longer than just a few days or a week. she will be leaving for an entire year (coming back only for weekend visits(once a month)). the very thought of her departure keeps me up at night. i can feel the burden of my life getting heavier already.
i love this woman, dearly. and knowing that i cant see her when i want or need to is hard enough but then add to the equation the many...things (for lack of better terms) that a college campus can provide. the two of us discussed this earlier, it isn't that i dont trust her but one cant help but get a little concerned. drugs, drinks, clubs, men, boys hell the work itself can all serve as factors to keep her from me...or even take...i dare not finish. maybe i am wrong for worrying and thinking such thoughts, but i would be inhuman if i didnt. simply put, im scared that her college life will strip me of what i need most: her. in the midst of all that she will be surrounded with, who's to say that this beautiful country girl wont easily forget a little city boy trying to make a name for himself(meaning that im broke as hell).
it seems as though whenever i need someone the most, when i need to be looked into my cold eyes and told "I believe in you," the most, whenever i simply need somebody touch my hand and smile at me, no one is there. i hate to blame anyone but myself but it seems as though God likes me to be alone when i can hardly bare to be. and if there was ever a time in life where i needed support, it is now. as the moore family make it known that there is no room for a single Foster in their house and force me into the "real world", i find myself more alone than my first weeks in a strange city.
at the end of this entry, i realize: this isn't just about the departure of person close to me, its about being alone...again. i have never been too fond of change but that was a change that i truly enjoyed...not being alone. and now history repeats itself, time overlaps as yet again i am left standing in the street watching the one person i desire, the one person i trust, the one person i love, drive off into their future. into success. into life.
all the while, i am stuck. in a rut of failure, depression, arguments, hate, hungry and sleepless nights and headache filled days. this life i live, yes it could be ALOT worse, but still not a single thing makes me happy.
as a man with a past that can be erased
as a boy with no family
as a child who experienced hate more so then love
as a person too familiar with failure
i sling my bag over my arm and begin to walk.
into my future
into my success
in my life
i know it wont be easy. there will be many more hungry nights and headache filled days but having only known failure, one will do anything for success...
but at 4:01am on this Saturday morning, i will return to my previous self.
as i have begun this journey of life after college failure, i find the road not only rocky but simply unbearable. the many negative emotions that swell within this already scorn soul keep me on edge. i am not a happy person. i find it hard to smile, harder to laugh and impossible to forgive. and still, i managed to find love. love in a person much like myself. love for a person nearly as troubled as myself. love. a love that cannot be torn by time or distance as it is soon to be tested by both. which is the EXACT reason for this entry.
my entire life i have encountered people who make living easier for me, only to lose them soon after accepting them: Tarrance sr., a few cousins, good friends in middle school, better friends in high school, and the best friends in college but more importantly, my current girlfriend. she is soon to continue her college lifestyle in Jackson, Mississippi whereas i am to begin my adulthood here in atlanta.
returning home after experiencing college has been nothing less than hell itself, she has made the regression easier with her late night words of encouragement and admiration. many a night, i have watched this woman drive from my presence and still it has not been easy. one would think i would get used to it...and simply knowing that in two weeks time i will watch her leave for longer than just a few days or a week. she will be leaving for an entire year (coming back only for weekend visits(once a month)). the very thought of her departure keeps me up at night. i can feel the burden of my life getting heavier already.
i love this woman, dearly. and knowing that i cant see her when i want or need to is hard enough but then add to the equation the many...things (for lack of better terms) that a college campus can provide. the two of us discussed this earlier, it isn't that i dont trust her but one cant help but get a little concerned. drugs, drinks, clubs, men, boys hell the work itself can all serve as factors to keep her from me...or even take...i dare not finish. maybe i am wrong for worrying and thinking such thoughts, but i would be inhuman if i didnt. simply put, im scared that her college life will strip me of what i need most: her. in the midst of all that she will be surrounded with, who's to say that this beautiful country girl wont easily forget a little city boy trying to make a name for himself(meaning that im broke as hell).
it seems as though whenever i need someone the most, when i need to be looked into my cold eyes and told "I believe in you," the most, whenever i simply need somebody touch my hand and smile at me, no one is there. i hate to blame anyone but myself but it seems as though God likes me to be alone when i can hardly bare to be. and if there was ever a time in life where i needed support, it is now. as the moore family make it known that there is no room for a single Foster in their house and force me into the "real world", i find myself more alone than my first weeks in a strange city.
at the end of this entry, i realize: this isn't just about the departure of person close to me, its about being alone...again. i have never been too fond of change but that was a change that i truly enjoyed...not being alone. and now history repeats itself, time overlaps as yet again i am left standing in the street watching the one person i desire, the one person i trust, the one person i love, drive off into their future. into success. into life.
all the while, i am stuck. in a rut of failure, depression, arguments, hate, hungry and sleepless nights and headache filled days. this life i live, yes it could be ALOT worse, but still not a single thing makes me happy.
as a man with a past that can be erased
as a boy with no family
as a child who experienced hate more so then love
as a person too familiar with failure
i sling my bag over my arm and begin to walk.
into my future
into my success
in my life
i know it wont be easy. there will be many more hungry nights and headache filled days but having only known failure, one will do anything for success...
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