Somethings are hard to explain, but easily understood. This is one of them.

6 years ago, I was 18. When I was 18, it felt like I had the whole world at my hands and my whole life ahead of me. I was consumed with the belief that I could do anything. It wasn’t so much arrogance as it was innate. You feel these things, you feel them deeply. It’s not anything you can justify, it’s something you know. Anything I wanted to be, whether it be an orthodontist, a writer, a rapper, or all three; my life would bring to me. Not necessarily bring to me, but destiny would meet myself and my hard work somewhere along in this lifetime. Anything I thought could happen, could happen, and anything I thought should happen, would happen. It was all meant to be if I wanted it to be.

Craver road. Walk sign is on. Craver road. Walk sign is on.

I’m 100% sure those words are ingrained in the head of every student who has attended UNC-Charlotte in the past decade. Craver road is the busiest road on Charlotte’s campus as far as pedestrian traffic goes. It runs in between the student union and the well-landscaped walk way headed towards the SAC. A memory I think of from time when I’m reminded of Craver road dates back to the fall semester of 2012, which was my sophomore year. I was walking out the student union headed towards Prospector not only to grab a bite to eat from Chick-Fil-A, but also to say what’s up to Ms. Barbara (a kind lady who once told me that nobody has to tell me I’m wonderful for me to be wonderful) as I hadn’t seen her in a while. As I stepped out headed towards Craver road, I notice an older white man in a wheel chair crossing the road. I looked at the digital timer located on the other side of the street and it was counting down at 2 seconds. He was only halfway when I looked back at him and he seemed to be struggling. I wasn’t afraid he would get hit by a car because the drivers can clearly see he’s trying his best to get across the road, and plus, who is that much of an asshole to lose their patience in situations like these? I know, I’d be surprised, but still, I noticed this and instead of hastening up my pace to help him cross the road, the exact opposite happened; I slowed down. It was a delay in my action, and by the time I made up in my mind that I was going to rush and help him cross the street, another gentleman in a collared shirt ran up and pushed the man in his wheelchair across the road. Once to the other side, I noticed them smiling and laughing, engaging in genuine interaction between the cars passing from the my side of Craver road.

Ask yourself a series of questions. What’s your name? Where do your ancestors come from? What city were you born in? Who delivered you? What day in what month in which year did you begin experiencing life? What does life mean to you? Does death scare you? If so, what does that fear mean to your life? If not, is there any fear in existing if fear doesn’t exist in nonexistence?

I remember celebrating my brother’s 24th birthday in downtown Raleigh two weeks out from moving to St. Louis in 2011. I was 18, fresh out of high school laughing at how they pulled my diploma two weeks earlier for “walking with too much swagger.” Swagger. That was such a funny word at the time. Under Lil’ B influence, swag had replaced words/phrases in my vocabulary such as yes, thank you, and let’s get it. My parents were moving to St. Louis and I was going with them until I began college that fall at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. My brother was staying behind, so it was his first time living on his own, minus the one time he lived in the dorms at UNCG.