Creative Writing Personal Essay Assignment

Why do people call me “Real?”  Well…

            My life is Real.

            Mornings, noon and night is Real.

            My whole scene is ill!

            Filled with magic and stars,

            Sun so bright squint ya eyes to see!

            No time to chill, Ma dukes got bills,

            I got mouths to feed,

            Til they put flowers over me,

            I ain’t got any beefs I’m at war for self,

            That’s how deep it gets.

            When ya life is Real,

            My whole scene is Real,

            A prophecy fulfilled,

            Mornings, noon and nights it’s Real!

            I never asked to be called Real, and of course that’s not my actual name!  However, my birth name, Christopher Matthew Alan Gaylord, no longer exists.  Well it does, on all legal documents and most of my family and childhood friends still call me Matt; however, the majority of people call me by my artist name Real.  I actually prefer that in most cases; when people call me Real it serves as a reminder to others and myself of the position I’m currently in.  I actually have a chance to exceed expectations and do more than just graduate and work a dead end job.  The name Real makes me different from the Suzie’s and John’s of the world and I’ve always marveled at the chance to be different; being a non-conformist makes life so much more interesting! 

            The year was 2009, and I was a scrawny baby faced high school sophomore whose only claim to fame was getting minutes on the basketball court.  My clothes never seemed to fit right and I lacked ample coordination.  When walking from class to class I had the habit of tripping over my feet.  Soon I started hanging with a new group of friends.  Every day we would gather around the lunch table and start rapping.  The key was to stack as many rhyming words on top of each other without getting tongue-tied.  At first, I was merely a spectator, I was so nervous that my words wouldn’t come out right that I sat stoned face and observed the others.  Despite my initial fears, I soon started sharing my talent.  To everyone’s surprise I actually had exceptional skill at stacking words together at a rapid pace.  Soon one of my best friends started calling me Real for my lyrical prowess and my raw nerve honesty. 

            Every weekend, while my mother was working I would take out my spiral notebook and start writing:

                                    Sitting alone in my bedroom,

                                    Praying mama come home soon,

                                    Praying for a good meal soon,

                                    Hoping for better days soon,

                                    Hoping my prayers answered soon.

                                    Cuz I wanna lose hope soon!

As soon as I found inspiration I would write continuously.  Sometimes, I would pass the margins and write page upon page.  Looking through my old notebooks, I’m amazed at the clarity of my thoughts at such a young age.  Jumbled word after jumbled word fit perfectly on the page, as if my prose were pieces to a puzzle, with time, I became more complex and began to challenge myself to become as technically sound as possible. 

            In retrospect, I couldn’t imagine life without being “Real.”  It’s just who I am and I’ll never change.  For some reason words just grow through me, like trees to branches, cliffs to avalanches.  I still enjoy the thrill of performing for crowds of people and seeing peoples’ reaction when I come up with a clever line or deliver a double entendre with precision.  I have no idea where life will take me, but one thing is for certain I’ll be Real forever!