Truth

Just as I am

As I ended the call ; I could feel the room spinning there was alot for my mind to absorb. I was moving to Los Angles ; the city of angels and dreams-angels of darkness and dreams that lead to disasterous ends.

"Dear Jesus, please don't send me to hell, i'm a young sinner and know not what i've gotten myself into."I prayed out loud my heart still racing and my head feeling to float off my neck ; I needed to lie down.

As my head hit the pillow; I could feel myself sumerge in a sea of fears and doubts- Now more than ever I wanted to go home at least I was accoustomed to their chaos; in my minds eye I saw my mother in tears- my brother had forgotten to take his medication and had gotten into an altercation with his probation officer, it wasn't bad enough that he was on probation due to an assualt and battery charge- no he had to go and add salt to the open wound.

I remembered my frustration; I wanted to be angry but I couldn't -the bipolar wasn't his fault he was born with it. It ran in my father's family and I couldn't even be mad at him - he didn't know himself until he wound up in the psyc ward after a stress induced breakdown at work.

All that time he thought it was just stress or mood swings; we all had - the assumtion was that gramps lack of care made dad a little moody and emotional. I mean he had a drinking problem but still ; most black men drank to ease their stress especially caribbean men , my dad was from St.Lucia , he came to the US at age 18 ; to be honest he never spoke much about his upbringing or his family back home. 

My mother was born in england; and came from a very strict anglican household-her dad was a priest after all and her mother a lawyer- I smiled as I thought of her ; she was probably finishing dinner right now- her back erect her wide hips swaying to the music on the latin station. She had been a dancer and my dad a construction worker- they meet on a subway and the rest was history; she was his rock and he her hero- it was a rocky relationship but a loving one.

The creaking of the door jolted me out of my thoughts; 

"Are you alright ?"his voice was sincere a his face was relaxed but concerned

"I'm alright Chris , just thinking that's all."

"You look ill"

I lifted my head slowly, I regretted trying after the room spun; "Do you have any panadols?"

"Yeah I'll go get some for you ,you sit tight baby girl."

There was something about this girl that comforted me; somehow she made me open up. Her energy was so pure  for some reason her  soul spoke to me- she was doing something to me that was beyond sexual. I wanted her; but my soul needed her.

"I gotta get it together."

My mind was racing as I made my way back up stairs- somehow this timid little church girl was fearless when it came to me; I thought back to my former relationships- they had always trembled in my presence. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; 

"Damn breezy , you out here looking like a crack head for real for real". I muttered these words out loud , my heart was heavy; inside I was torn -me and drugs had a complex relationship ; in fact me and most things had a complex relationship; especially me and women. I thought of Jai her radiant smile, her wild and poofy hair- her supple breasts and firm behind; her beautiful soul. She was beautiful - I was drawn to her.

'That girl is too good for you Brown and you know it' my mind scolded me sharply; it was right- I wanted her but I could never wreck her life like that; I had hurt enough women.

She was sound asleep when I finally made it up the stairs; I gazed at her- her full lips were slightly ajar allowing a small pool of drool to escape; her hair was neatly pulled into a high afro- she herself was curled into a little ball. I suddenly thought of my own baby girl and how vulnerable she was- Jai was right ; I needed to be around for her.

I found myself watching her sleep for a little while; she didn't move much at all- save for her toes which were wiggling a little. Goosebumps began to form on her bare thighs- she was cold; evenings in Nevada could be chilly. I lifted her gently off the sheet and tucked her in snuggly-her aura was so childlike that I felt the need to watch over her.

I felt warm tingles go down my spine as I played with her hair; Little girls grow into big girls when they're 20- I remembered how vulnerable I felt at that age; I fell into a deep depression- lost all my endorsements, and went from being loveable and goofy to being a monster in the twinkling of an eye; it was then that the drugs came to keep me company- the thugs followed. 

I sighed deeply; I had always been moody , I just hid it well- my smile would hide all my pent up emotions: when c-sizzle became Chris Brown the label milked it. I was likeable they said , friendly , cute and child friendly. It wasn't all a lie- but then again it wasn't the whole truth either, C-sizzle was my rapping name and I had perfected my craft through being out on the Harlem Streets - I was driven and hungry for success, I meant that I would be successful one way or the other.

In my minds eye I saw myself; on the basketball court at Essex High - my legs moving swiftly as I did yet another smooth cross over; I was eyeing both the ladies and the talent scout , they had told my momma I had a shot at the NBA and I was striving for it.

Looking back I now realize I just wanted any way out of Tappahannock; don't get me wrong it wasn't a bad place and I loved being out in the country riding dirt bikes with my cousins, but I wanted more-opportunities there weren't much and I wasn't tryna pump gas and work cash registers all my life. I was a bright student and the teachers knew it- they'd always say;

"Christopher you have so much potential if only you'd focus more" or "Chris you should be getting A's but you're slacking." My math's teacher was especially annoyed; "You have the potential to be in advanced classes Chris , but you never do my homework." Thinking of it I was afraid to be seen as nerdy - I preferred to be athletic; I played over five sports - but I was definitely the best at basketball. 

My coaches loved me; in fact they were the ones that persuaded me to at least put a little effort into my studies. The only teacher that never complained was my art teacher- to her I was a "very quiet and pleasant student" I remembered the shock on my principals face when he heard this; I was known for being loud, loud and chatty.

"Well he's not like that in my class"

The principal gazed at me with genuine intent; "You're a nice kid Brown- why do you hide from yourself so much?"

I was pulled out of my thoughts by her gentle moans; she was waking up.