Nomad

Besides The Point

Bullets are flying over head. Every where I look I see missiles screeching out of giant dustballs, which quite frankly was a wee bit peculiar, seeing as how I live in the Boogie-down Bronx. I have no other option opposing finding safer ground before I wait for the air to clear. Which in turn would let me go about getting my shit together.

How am I always the one to be thrown into a crazy situation like this? What the fuck is going on anyways?

      Before I can go on asking myself more questions, I see blood gushing out of my chest. At this point all I hear is a loud ringing in my ears while slowly my surroundings fade from glitter to black to white, back to glitter, before ultimately fading back to black. It's crazy because there is the faint sound of my name echoing throughout the looming darkness.

"Max... Max.... dude?", said the voice softly. "Dude. Dude. Dude.... Max? Max!"

       Now the voice seems to be getting closer and more familiar, as if a ghost from my past was making its way up to my ear canal where it knew that I would be able to undoubtedly respond.

"Fucking aye bro! Get the fuck up or I'll smoke this myself, nigga" yelled that very familiar voice.

        My eyes snapped open. Looking around at the what seemed to be a filthy dungeon, I half panicked. It was a small amount of panic though, enough to raise concern over my well being. It took about 20 seconds to realize that I was home.

       It was all just a dream. Good, 'cause I was deadass confused as to what the flying fuck was going on. And turns out that familiar voice was that of none other than my best friend José. .

Yassss bish yasss! My nigga is waking me up for the fattest doobie I've smoked since... yesterday? Yeah. Or was it Tuesday? Well who gives a fuck.

It was decently rolled in my favorite papers; jumbo raw hemp papers. About an eighth of the finest homegrown WalBear grand daddy oilspill. One of the most potent hybrids of the dearly beloved strains GDK, GDP, Sour D and KK. You get the citrus-y, fruity, yet skunky, it's a complex blend for the taste and scent pallets to readily identify. But one can't help but wonder why such a magnificent plant has been frown upon by the legislature and the conservative party, they are just plain old haters if you ask me. But fuck it, that's besides the point.

José is one of the coolest, yet annoying dudes that I know. He talks a lot. He can go on and on on the smallest bit of information. He tries to converse with as many women that can put up with his conversations. As well as his not-so-subtle-yet-still-in-a-way-subtle ways of asking things and flirting, makes for an entertaining few minutes. Ultimately this dude will end up with an average of 3 out of 5 phone numbers. But it's not surprising, he isn't an ugly individual. He is just your average looking Joe. A 23 year old guy with an average white dudes appearance and build, 6 foot about 150-160lbs, with one of the whitest voices that sounds as he is a seasoned New Yorker who lived in the hood for about 2 years or so, but he is Boriqua. He speaks little to no Spanish, but can change up his voice from average college student, to pulling out the white card in the blink of an eye. José Canto has been my homie since 2011. We met in college (my first day on campus actually) through a friend of mine whom he was dating at the time, Melanie.

Melanie, oh sweet, sweet Melanie. Now that was a women you could take home to your parents and leave them impressed. But her persona, her aura, her... her je ne sais quoi was so chill, so fun loving and goofy, so beautiful, (sooo damn ugh! I can't even! She was bad as fuck bruh) that you could bring her around the boys and they can vibe with her.

Melanie Rodriguez, now 21 (I met her when she was about 16 I believe) was always that one girl at school whom all the guys would lust over, while guys that actually knew her would either fall back or fall in love (back then I was one of those who fell in love and then fell back as far as possible) with this chick. First of all, every one loves a shorty. And that she was, or at least shorter than me. She was roughly 5'4" or 5'5" when we first met. A few inches short of a foot in height difference seeing as how I was 6' or 6'1" at the time. Melly had these gorgeous eyes that were either grey or green, and on occasion light hazel. You could swim to the bottom of the ocean in those big ol' puppy dog eyes of hers. Eyes which were properly complimented by hair so luscious, I wish I would have played with it myself. But her smile though, her smile. Dear lord, she could make statues blush. What I always loved was how genuine that smile would be. Always reaching from ear to ear. Mel and her cute as gap. The color of her skin was a pale tan I guess would be the best way to describe a really really lightskin Hispanic female. A female of Puerto Rican decent (why do I know so many boriquas? Lol, that's besides the point) Her body was great. Nice thick legs, great size rack, what more could any dude want? Well, besides depth of the soul and intellect of the mind. Jesus, was high school the worst. So many good looking girls in their prime, and me just here. A shy motherfucker with a sense of humor. But that's besides the point.

Well now that the nostalgia is gone I can focus on more important things. Like this joint I forgot José gave me. I didn't even notice when he left my room. That's a real nigga. Waking my ass up for my very own goddy to wake and bake with. I love being a cannabis connoisseur.

I found my calling at a time when life made no sense. Society made no sense. Police made no sense. Politicians made no sense. Nothing was making sense to me about life. My confidence was at a pitiful low. Drugs, alcohol, and the groups of people I was always around made me feel lonelier than I ever made myself feel. Since I was a kid I was always over weight. In early grade school I would get angry as a child would when the other kids would pick on me. So much so that once I retaliated physically against 2 smaller boys at the same time. I knocked their puny asses to the ground and proceeded to stomp them out as best I could. Keep in mind, I was only 7 or 8 years old at the time. I was the resident bully up until maybe the 3rd grade.

It was a school field trip to the central park. I was at the back of the yellow bus bouncing in my seat in anticipation of the bumpy road ahead. I couldn't wait for the bus to take off, so I started a ruckus. Soon the whole bus was yelling and jumping about. It was a mini person riot on that bus I swear! Once we start moving I sit back, and everyone just starts talking to each other. I'm staring out the window when I hear jazmin whisper to Robert in front of me:

"Hey Robby. Max smells like poop. Pass it on." She giggles softly, while Robert tell

I'm furious. I've never hit a girl up to this point. But that bitch deserved it. I yanked her by the hair and started punching her softly, just so she could learn a lesson.

"Ow! Stop! Stop! Ouch! Stop!!!" Jaz was sobbing uncontrollably.

The kid who was the first to start talking shit, Rob, sucker punched me. My glasses fell under one of the seats. I was drastically looking and looking and straining my damn eyes to no prevail. Ever since I was a kid I was blind as a bat without my damn glasses.

*Glass crunching*

I stop looking on the ground and turn around.

With a snotty smirk Rob said "opps, did I do that?"

Him and the other kids laugh.

I sit on the floor and cry, then rage just takes me over and I attack this kid.

"Fuck you!" I screamed running towards him.

I trip. Time is moving slow as I look around while I am falling. Nothing but satisfied faces, glad that this happened. Some even rushed over ready to kick me when I was down. I hit the floor, bounce and then everything faded to black.

And that's why I am no longer a bully, Karma.

I was too young at the time to remember the actual details, but that's what I have installed in my head so that's exactly what comes out my mouth. I press play to answer people who dare ask me why I am the way that I am. I is who I is. Point blank. I'm a 22 year old dude with a build somewhere in between a teddy bear and a football player. Standing at 6'2", I'm always that tall asshole that ask short chicks for a high 5 ten feet in the air. But it's OK though, I'm a bear. I love to give hugs. You can't really get mad at a hugger, can you? I know I can. I hate myself. I know it's not healthy, but I do. I hate that I have sensitive skin, which adds on to my insecurities. I hate that I'm kind of overweight. Something else to add on to my insecurities. I hate that I'm so shy and with low self esteem at that. What the fuck is life?

The nostalgic thoughts and thoughts of self loathing find their way back inside my head sometimes. Worst time to dwell on the past or personal issues is during the middle of a smoke session. This joint is winding down to the filter. Ashes fall heavily the floor. But I don't mind. I clip it at a decent size and leave it in the ashtray for later. Now I'm laying in bed just staring at the ceiling. Dazing out when all of a sudden...

"Achoo" I heard coming from the floor on the other side of my bed.

Without hesitation, I grab my bat from in between the bed and the wall. I roll over the bed and with bat in hand I look over the side. I let out a little sigh of relief. It was just the girl from the café yesterday. Amber I believe her name was. We were chit chatting at some café downtown that I normally wouldn't be caught dead at. But seeing as how this girl's face caught my attention, I had to hop off my board real quick and try to start a conversation with her. I had to face my fears. But little did I know, I had a whole lot more on my plate to come.