HIS-Story

HIS-Story~1

What is the point of living? Why am I here? Why are you here? Why are we here? Everyone has a purpose they say, but what is my purpose. Why am I waking up to see another day?  I am not depressed, nor am I crazy..... I am just curious.

My grandmother always say "Everything happens for a reason, sweetie." I can still hear her sweet voice, smell her lavender perfume and feel her warmth every time she pulls me in for a bear hug. Damn, I miss her.

My life is was not and never will be easy. I am a thug, I can admit. But unlike all thugs, I do not show off my money nor chase after woman and cheat on them after I claim to give them my love. My mind is never on money and other accessories that I do not use not need.

From my friends and family, I have been told I was ridiculously intelligent. I personally think I am; I graduated high school with a 4.5 GPA and went straight into Maryland state for a career of being a accountant. But life had to turn when my mother started to suffer from leukemia. I had to drop out of college on my third year and work with my home boy to earn quick money that will help with my mother's bills and my baby sister; who is now in UCLA with a full ride scholarship:

Unfortunately my mother past away three weeks ago when my little sister started her first day in college. I remember exactly everything from that day. Malaya; my sister and I was in California setting up her room and walking around to know the campus. Just in case I have to come up there and kill a nigga for hurting my baby sis. Any way, I received a call from the hospital once I was saying goodbye to Malaya.

It was the most heartbreaking news for the both of us, but Malaya suffered the most. Half of her life, Malaya has watched our mother suffer through the terrible disease. She never experienced our mother being happy and active side; instead she experienced her weak and depressed side.

So now I take care of Malaya all by myself. Our father went M.I.A once Malaya was six, but we don't consider him our father. He's just a nigga that gave our mother his sperm. Even when I was young, he never contribute in paying the bills nor take us to school... Nothing. He was basically a potato that smokes weed everyday and live off our mother's hard earning money. My mother (rest her soul) was to blinded by love that she had no problems with the man that ate our food, sat on our couch and watched our cable. That's why I don't f....

"AJ, do you have a towel?" A feminine voice kicked me out of my thoughts. I set me head up by putting my arm under my head to see my home boy's girl standing in my doorway with nothing but a shirt that showed her perky breast and plump ass.

Gia, I think that's her name. Well this girl was a whore. She always trying to hit on me, knowing that she's with my friend.

"Nah." I laid my head back and looked up at the white ceiling. I can still feel her eyes on me. I did not have a shirt on, so I know she was watching my muscles flexed as I inhale and exhaled.

"Are you sure?" I knew what she was doing. Gia was trying to seduce me by talking like she's whining. It wasn't going to work, I think it's very annoying when a female does that.

I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes at her. "Didn't I say no. Get out my damn room." I ordered, not even bothering to give her a look nor glance.

"Your dick probably small anyway." I heard her mumble under her stinky ass breath.

I just shrugged it off because I know I ain't small and I will not go down to her level. I had to much respect for females and her. If my sister was cursed out by a nigga, I would be pissed. So why would I curse at a female that has a male family member that would be pissed off as well when she comes or calls home crying about her being cursed at by a guy.