The deepest, most profound and prolific thing for me to say at this particular point in my life is simply: I’m finding myself—more and more each day. And as cliché as that sounds, I admit that I’m finally starting to see the kinds of things my dad always tried to drill in me.
I finally understand that when he always told me to “Walk like a Man” he wasn’t talking about my hand on my hip. He meant to be firm in my own stance. He meant for me to be respectful—while demanding it back. He meant for me to speak clearly and look in their eyes as I do so…
…Or maybe he just wanted me to throw a football correctly!
Either way, I sound more and more like my father as I mature. For those who read some of my earlier posts, my dad and I have had a very rocky relationship. I was, um… “pushed out” of the closet, then back in… it was a really messy situation…
I clearly remember one time, in the kitchen, my father and I had got into a veeerrryyy heated argument. I’ll spare you the details, but I clearly remember yelling to my dad, through sobs and teary-eyes “RESPECT? RESPECT? Don’t you know I HATE yo black ASS??” . *Sighs* it brings a lump in my throat just thinking about it!
We’ve long-since healed from this, but I still weep for that 16 year old boy. I was so. Damn. Angry. Back then, I would’ve said anything to make anyone feel the same (and did, when given the opportunity).
Now, as I stare my 21st birthday in the eyes, I wonder what the rest of life will have in store for me. Hell, I can’t help but wonder if 21 more years are even promised. But what I do know is that with the Lord as my leader, and God as my keeper, I’ll make it—I have to. So many people in my life counting on [Cogito] to “make it”.
But I’ve come to find that people will always have their own expectations of you. What’s important is that you have your personal expectations. I know 15 year olds who act 50 and I know 50 year olds who act 15...
Like I said, I’m finding myself: in every prayer, every church service. Every conversation I have with loved ones. In every poem I write. In every blog I post. Every blog I read. Every comment I receive. I find myself more and more.
And one day, I’ll have someone to share all this baggage with.
But for now, I’m my University’s Bitch!
But shh!!! I’m cheating on him with Blogger.com ;)
Enjoy the pics, yall! And thanks for all the comments. This post is in response to an email I received from a fellow college-boy; he asked to stay anonymous so… hope this answers your questions, dude!