In Between Separate Ways
There’s no second chance at life. The same can be said about growing up. Growing up is hard. You may grow at various points in this lifetime, but you will never go through childhood and adolescence more than once. I wrote an article titled ‘Bringing it Home’ almost two years ago on the Huffington Post about how I came across my middle school yearbook one evening while visiting my parent’s house and came to the conclusion that my generation’s time to lead society to making a difference is now. It always has been, but now more than ever.
I often times reflect on life, life as a whole. There’s a quote I saw on Tumblr my freshman year of college that stuck with me which said something along the lines of ‘everyone experienced today differently.’ I’m still mind blown by the amount of subjective realities that exist in this fantasy of ours. Different perceptions lead to different perspectives which either lead to acceptance or ignorance. Those who accept ignore ignorance, those who are ignorant ignore acceptance. I try my best to be as accepting as I can, but it’s hard at times. I’ve accepted that nobody is perfect, not even the man in the mirror as ignorant as that sounds. Our lives are all connected somehow. We all live together alone. If you believe in free will then every life is a story, making us all authors.
Unfortunately, some of us don’t realize it until it’s too late. Some never realize it at all. I scroll down my newsfeed and see all of life’s ups and downs for my peers. I’m observant of a lot, though I’m never down to admit it because of societal pressures. If I were to be honest, I think most of us are like this. It’s interesting to see the progress in life of people who are seemingly from our past as they choose to document it. People I’ve known since we were kids are having kids. Proposals and marriages are evident love at my age involves more commitment than emotion. Graduating, finding jobs, going on vacations and exploring parts of the only home we will ever know; the book of life is yearning to be filled.
I feel chapters behind some of my peers. For example, I went to dinner with the homie from middle school, whom I hadn’t seen since 8th grade, last week and he’s graduated and landed a job at the Wells Fargo campus on WT. He’s been graduated since 2015, the year I was projected to graduate. We’re the same year, same age, same everything. I’m happy for dude because he seems to have it all figured out. Reconnecting with distant friends and being filled in on their progress of life is an incredible thing. Sometimes I wish I could be as happy for myself as I am for other people.
Then I begin to think.
I think about friends who are no longer here with me physically and how the stories of their physical lives are over. One of the sweetest girls I’ve known never had a chance to finish her life the way she wanted to. Whether it’s in God’s plan or the Universe’s desire, it’s sad to us here who don’t know any better. I’m not too prideful to say I fear death. I’m sure that’s why I’ve been extremely anxious lately. I’m trying anything to get my mind off of it and shift my perspective. The two thoughts that help me through this is I’ve convinced myself we practice death for 8 hours every night and that death is not the end of the book, but instead the end of a chapter.
Last week one of my friends from the first two years of high school was sentenced two life sentences without parole in a murder case from July of 2014. Wake County prosecutors and the family of the victims wanted and tried him for the death penalty, but the jurors decided against it. It’s surreal to me he found himself in that predicament. We were 2 of 14 freshman in the only AP class offered to 9th graders way back when. He was a good kid, people liked him, and he had a bright future ahead of him. It goes to show, people become who they’re surrounded by. When I hear of things like this, it makes me grateful for the people I’m surrounded by and my upbringing. Although things could’ve been different for me, things also could’ve been worse.
A few of my friends are in med school. Some of my friends have steady 9-5’s with steady income. Others are married with kids on their first house. A girl who sat next to me in civics and economics got busted for stealing a dinosaur egg replica from the Museum of Natural Sciences in downtown Raleigh with her boyfriend a couple of years ago. I even knew a girl who liked me when I liked her in 4th grade but we didn’t know until we linked up via social media in 8th grade who is doing her thizzang out in San Francisco. My homie living it up in Tacoma doing what it do, living the only way we can in our mid-20’s. As for me? Well, I’m trying my best to make it happen with the music, the writing, and the photography. I’m the writer of my life and I’m a writer in my life. How dope is that? I could’ve been in med school with my future doctors or I could’ve been in jail for selling drugs and committing crimes, but I’m not. Instead I’m in between separate ways. And for that, I’m thankful.
There’s too much writing left to be done on my part.