Treasure Maps & Things

Waiving my white flag in; I give up, I give in. No more giving you pennies just because you're clinking your worn and torn cup of change. I am begging too! I have a cup of my own that clinks! I just don't go around begging, so you would never know. I appear poor on the outside, but I am rich on the inside. But you? You are poor in every dimension, like watching a tragic movie in 3D. 

I was looking for your hidden treasure, and "to make things easy" you gave me a treasure map. 

Walk 200 meters north, go west at Old Memories of Ex-Girlfriends' Past Lane, walk 1,000 meters south; arrive at Lake Cheated & Drowned Them B*tches, then swim towards the under water cave- take a deep breathe. Put the right pass-code in and the boulder moves and suddenly there's an entrance.

There's a party and it's a dancing game! But I don't want to square dance anymore. I survived all the boobie traps, said all the right words in all the right order; killed the monstrous guards, slayed the fire-breathing dragons, climbed mountains, went to the moon and brought you back moon rocks-- and still, I can't find my way to the real you. 

I'll sit down, take a break. Retrace my steps and ask myself, "Did I mistakenly make a wrong turn at Ex-Girlfriend's Past Lane? Or did I walk too far past the lying, flute-playing leprechaun?" 

I rest my aching back against an old tree near me. Take a nap, you'll feel better when you wake, it tells me. Either I drank too much red wine, or my dreams are too elusive; in the middle of the night, that old tree came to life, and leaned in above me, only to whisper, "Go... HOME."  

The wind brushed up against me and the rise of goosebumps on my arms made me conscious. 

Treasure maps and dreams

and a bunch of wild things,

like old wise willow trees

that whisper

"Go HOME, Ash."

Glory [Lupe Fiasco].

When your spirit is strained and you're limited to change,
the lyrics in your limericks will change;
a different hook, the way the sentences are arranged,
more demented in your deliverance, more sinister in your slang
sounds more belligerent when its sang.
The TRUTH...
is limitless in it's range.
If you, drop a "T" and look at it in reverse, 
It could HURT. 
Look at the grimaces of the pain,
and it's worse when it works, and your membership is gained,
but you're forgetting the proof diminishes in the flames,
like POOF! 
The media pours images in your brain
of the score of the war where militants is slain;
the faces of the guilty where innocence is proclaimed,
and they're filthy, the deaf ears are the winners,
the listeners are the lames...
Of the ballad of the man that the son of a minister has became.


But you gotta understand our differences are the same.
What starts in clouded minds, finishes in the rain.
Of the fools that are used as instruments in the game,
where oppression is the Queen and ignorance is the King,
where Revolution is dead...
No candles in its memory, no rememberance of its fame,
just a mystery, no mentioning the history of the chain.
The enemy, no Hennessy sentiments in its name,
just an unmarked grave that menaces have defamed
with the propaganda, and images of the gangs.
A lost art, no apprentices in the trained,
and they're brainwashed, no interest in the stain
and their mind's weary all the adrenaline in the drain
while the wrecking balls are... disassembling things.
Our highness is the cause, its imminence is the blame;
the pride is still here, the pillaging still remains.

And you gotta respect the position in which you're playing;
never let your heart reflect the conditions in which you're staying,
even if it’s dark, and the temperature is the same
as winters in the Ukraine, you're appendages is in chains.
Have forgiveness from the start, keep maliciousness restrained.
Be smart, never indiscriminate in your aim,
'cause its innocent witnesses are oblivious to the things
that come to ones that hypnotists keep entertained.
And you can't arch, have some resilience in your frame.
Stay resistant and committed to what you're saying
'cause they'll flip it the minute that you refrain.
Read the books and the lines, and literature in between.
You gotta be educated when going against the grain.
Pay attention, they're illegitimate in their claims.
They assisted in the killing and pillaging,
in addition to the addiction, shit is much bigger than just the planes.

"Friends"? -- Friend.

I was 7 years old when I met Jerlina. She lived in the apartment above mine in Washington Heights. She was 8 years old and spoke broken English. My grandmother thought it would be a good idea for me to have someone play with after school-- it would teach me how to be social and make friends. With me knowing no Spanish, and her barely speaking English, we became good friends and managed to play together every day after school. We played hide and seek, I would often hide in her closet, she would hide behind the couch, our options were limited.


We inseparable by 11, and language was no longer a barrier, she had learned it well very quickly, and I finally considered her to be my best friend. My first friend, my real friend. There were fights and moments of not-speaking as we got older, but somehow, we always ran back towards each other and apologized for things said and unsaid; things done and not done. We loved each other too much, had gone through too much together for us to throw it all away and start over new with a different friend. We had memories and time on our side, infinitely. She knew all of my deepest darkest secrets, and I knew all of hers and whenever we got our hearts broken, we were there for each other.


At 23 and she 24, living in different states that leave thousands of miles between us, we still call each other and seek comfort in each other's advice and words of wisdom. I find it strange that while I now live with 3 other "friends," I often don't find comfort in talking to them. I don't find comfort in their "friend"-ship. For some time, I thought it was me, and it may very well be me, but I've come to a sad yet true realization: people change, and friendships don't always remain the same. Unlike me and Jerlina, some friendships don't survive the storms and when the sun comes out, we all go our separate ways. 


I live in a house of 3 other people, yet I always feel completely alone in their presence. I have nothing to tell them, to share with them, and its not because I don't want to, it's because we have no history, no common interests. To add to it, I come from a rough background; a background many cannot understand or relate to. It makes it difficult for them to understand where I come from and why I am the way I am. While they have their own problems to deal with, I know that mine are much larger and I suppose I don't want to burden them with the weight of my world, even though, isn't that what friends are for? When it came down to it, I feared the idea of being judged by people I liked and wanted to fit in with. When I finally took the time to reflect on the friendships I've had with different types of people, the ones that have survived the longest in my life are the ones I've been able to open up to; the ones that never judged me and accepted me for who I was, who I am, and who I will some day be. The ones who I have valued the most in my life are the ones that understand where I've been and why at times, I feel I can't stay strong and move on.


While I wish I could value these "friends" I live with the same way, it appears there is nothing which brings us together. I tried to uphold all the things I once believed kept us together as friends-- AFROTC, AAS candidacy, birthday's, Spring Break, and while those experiences changed me in ways that will always affect me, they aren't  the glue that keeps us together because new memories are made every day, and we are not the same people we were yesterday. We will never be, and our friendship will never be. Our pasts haven't brought us any closer than two strangers sitting next to each other in a subway cart. Our present has been nothing but a long, strung-out road of distance and more distance between me and them. It hurts me to think about it because I never imagined friendship in that way, and I never had friendships that weren't-- real. When I think about it, all the friends I have, whether I see or talk to them every day or not, are still my friends because when things hit the fan, they are there when I need them, and vice versa. 


I would like to take some blame for the way things have turned out between all of us, but a big part of me is too angry to, and too disappointed, and even more shocked to be rational about it all. Maybe in a few months from now, when I have finally moved on, I will leave this part of my past behind and not bother looking back. If you aren't there for my past or present, you most likely won't be apart of my future. I need stability, reliability, trust, honesty, love, care, compassion, and lots of attention. I guess that makes me sound like some sort of a pet, but I think after all I've been through, its the least I can ask for. I don't need to be judged anymore than what I've already been. I'm not rich, I'm poor; I didn't go to Disney World as a kid, I didn't have family trips and vacations, I didn't have a father in my life, or a stable home, I didn't have any of the things most kids wish for or have. I wasn't a happy kid because I didn't have much to be happy about. I grew up angry and sad and disappointed about things, because I had a lot to be angry and sad and disappointed about. My dad in jail all my life, my mom and her horrible boyfriends, my grandmother was too heartbroken about both her sons being in jail to help me, I had to help raise my 2 smaller siblings, I've had a job since I was 15, and have always had one ever since; I've been depressed the majority of my life, and there is nothing I can do about it. I've accepted all of this, and I guess all I can say is, I thank all the friends who have accepted me for that. As for everyone else who can't handle me with all my baggage, so long. My life moves on, the same way the sun always rises and sets, and the world keeps on turning.