I Wrote This Because I Moved

I don’t think I realized how big of a step me moving out of the home I grew up in was… I see it as a move forward in life and an upgrade in my possibilities but the little things are what I think I may have overlooked. I do miss home, but that’s not what prompted me to write this.

I moved out of, not only the house I grew up in, but also the state I grew up in and went to school in. It’s the city I grew up and learned to love on drunken Sundays at 7AM, and hate on Friday nights. The fucking BLOCK I met my best friends. The people I fought and the people I loved and played basketball with. That’s A LOT OF SHIT TO MOVE AWAY FROM! That’s a lot, man.

I didn’t realize it. I didn’t foresee it. I was too busy looking forward.

And don’t get me wrong, that’s a great place to look when you want to make moves in life, but you can’t forget where you came from and what made you. I love everything that made me in New York. I love the shit that I hated in New York. I love who I am today because of where I grew up. I love who I am today because of who I grew up with. I love who I am because of who raised me, and the city that raised me.

But it’s hard to think back about it, at this particular moment in time. So I’m sorry if I’ve moved and seem to have abandoned you, but I think deep down I knew that’s what would make me want to stay, that constant connection with all of you. I needed to go cold turkey, in a way.

The part that hit me like a ton of bricks was when I gave my Mom and Mema that last hug and kiss… that wasn’t too hard. But it was that walk from my back door to my packed and running car that was hard. That last goddamn walk was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life because I knew it was going to be , for a good while, the last time I’d walk that block, and see that white fence and that stop sign that me, Thomas and Lay used to throw rocks at as kids. And that goddamn 99th ave.

That was gonna be the last of what I had called home for twenty-seven years.

But I’m here now, in New Orleans, crying and writing this in kitchen of the place I can currently call home. I know I haven’t written anything publicly in a really long while but I needed to write this. I needed to speak to everyone. I’m doing really well. I have a way to make money. I have a place to sleep. I have nice neighbors. I have my Mustang. I have the woman I love with everything I have and don’t have. And I have my sanity.

I’m ok. I’m doing hella good. Never great, cuz God is great. I had to throw a Lupe line so you know I’m good.

Peace. And much love to you.