You can try and run from a life of nightmares, but you are who you are. Survived every scene, Stephen King couldn’t imagine a story to relay these personal scars. I walk around tall, like I am seven-feet, no roar. And never been on some fcuk shit, unless a Virgo gave me more.

Deep down, I wanted to rep what I saw in you, but my path been different. I could blame it on tree and seed estrangement, but that’s how people become complacent. Flashing that wide smile all the women adored, building a home, with a wife that you gave the checks to, a team with the same goals, knowing who you did it for. And now, watching you start to transcend here, you did it your way, getting a clean shave, I shed a tear; wiped my eyes right quick, nobody needed to see that, except these pages; I’ma always leave them here.

(“Open Journal, Entry #2", an excerpt)