No Regrets

I found myself reminiscin, remember this one/ when he was here he was crazy nice with his son/ I miss him, long as I'm livin he's livin through memories/ He's there to kill all my suicidal tendencies/ In heaven lookin over me, or in hell, keepin it cozy/ I'm comin life on these streets ain't what it's supposed to be/ Remember Newton, mutual friend well me and him feudin/ On your life I tried to talk to him/ But you know niggaz, think they guns can stop foe niggaz/ Frontin like they're, Big Willie but really old niggaz/ Hoe niggaz, this year I'm sho' niggaz think I'm slippin/ I'm bought to send you a roommate, no bullshittin/ for my hustle's goin too well to hit him/ You was right niggaz want you to be miserable wit em/ Anyway, I ain't tryin to hear it, I think I'm touched/ this whole verse I been talkin to your spirit, a little too much

-          Jay-Z “Regrets”

I was a little late on the Jay-Z Reasonable Doubt train, as I didn’t buy the album until 2001 when I was deployed to Kosovo. Once I heard it though, and even now, I still usually just let it ride. I love the emotions, the real life struggles that seep throw in every line. The balance between confidence and depression speaks to me, even today, as I struggle with my mental instability every day. Needless to say, I am a huge fan of introspective hip hop. I love when people speak of their vulnerabilities and flaws. I can’t take the needless lies of “I’m the man” forever type raps, without something to balance it out.

For a lot of people, I come off as a cocky person. While I’m not short of confidence, I am far from cocky. I know I have my failings. As my father taught me, however, “In order to be a better man and a leader, one has to acknowledge his short comings and work to make them better.”  One of my biggest short comings growing up, was keeping things bottled up inside. This desire to not tell people my problems lead to me having a short temper, anger issues, suicidal thoughts, and Attention Deficit Disorder. Me killing a puppy, doing drugs as a youth, lashing out little brother, turning my back on my studies and talents were all a part of me not knowing how to deal with the sewage of thoughts swimming around  in my head.

When I joined the Army, I was just a lost soul. Then I met somebody that did something I only heard about. Take a person under their wing and raise them like they are their son. The main person to do that was my home boy Ryan Varela. In fact, he was the first Mexican I ever liked in my life. (If you know anything about the Mexican- Black rivalry from the ‘90’s you will understand). He was from the city of Angles, me, from the country in South Carolina.  We had very little in common, but as he put it “You got something honest about you. You could be useful.” Useful I was. Even though he was only like 2 years older than me, him and another dude in my platoon raised me up and educated me on stuff that I missed out on.  I had nothing but love for him. That were I learned that if you ever run the risk of getting arrested with someone or been down in the dumps with somebody, you can’t really know if they are your true friends. What we did to prove that to each other is none of your business and that I’m taking to the grave.

Unfortunately, Ryan took many secerts with him to the grave already. What upsets me the most is that there were many things I never got the chance to tell him while he was alive. Yeah, I told him thanks for the life lessons and the opportunities he showed me. He even left me with the advice of stay the course and get to college and for that, I’m forever grateful to him for. What strikes home about the above mentioned Jay-Z verse is, especially the bold-in lines.  There are times when I am, best way to be described, chasing ghost. I remember the last time I got drunk off the brown; I had an hour long conversation with Ryan. I was apologizing in the parking lot of a bar near Ft. Polk saying how I was sorry for not telling him what I knew, how he be alive if I had told him, and how I missed his advice. My friends at the time were ready to take me to the nut how, and put me on medication for some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Honestly they should have. When I woke up in some strange place the next morning, my friends were like “you were talking to yourself for an hour. That’s not normal.” Maybe it wasn’t, but it sure was liberating.

 So I decided, from that day forward, no regrets.  If I have something to say, say it. It’s not worth holding things in, letting it fester, and then lashing out when I can’t take it anymore. Too many heart attacks and grey hairs can be contributed to people keeping stuff bottled up inside. So I no longer speak to spirits, I got to let it out and deal with it while people are alive.   My blog, tweets, status are my rhymes, since I don’t rap. “You call em rhymes, I call it clearing out my mind” –J. Cole “Too Deep For an Intro”

RIP V