It has been more than a month since I shared myself on the web. I guess it’s that time of the month again so I better bleed the blackest blood into these words. my silence on the triple w is equal to my own existence sometimes. It funny how I act in person or even how some would describe me in person is completely different than my writings. The masks I display in public can be very convincing. I wonder if we’re all destined to be this lonely or even this false. I’ve been feeling like a failure again because I can’t seem to match my own ideals of living a health life. I was dead without my girlfriend only 2 months ago and thank god we have made up since then because I’m addicted to her. but we’re not perfect and we’re niggaz from the Bronx. We are Spanish niggas from the Bronx unable to deal with ourselves in our current situation. Unable to deal with our emotions and yet we still find a way to love each other but we’re toxic because for too long we’ve lived in a toxic environment. It seeps through our clothes even when we go to work in the city and have to be amongst civilized people. we’re the savages from uptown. we don’t belong there or anywhere. we don’t even belong amongst our own. We’re the peasant class, the lost ones, the untouchables, the dirty niggas from over there, we even kill each other from time to time. but we love each other like nobody’s business and we make each other cry at the same time. Who else are you gonna treat like shit worse than the ones you love? The answer of course is no one, like Alicia Keys is singing it to me.
