Growing up without a father and with a struggling single mother, I felt like the castaway of my family, unsupported and rejected. I had nothing handed to me; at 24, I owned just six pairs of pants and felt like a bum. My life seemed to spiral downward endlessly, with constant setbacks and people treating me poorly. Living in Harlem and Brownsville, I was surrounded by drugs, violence, and toxic relationships, but I refused to be lured into that destructive world.Racism, poverty, and hardship were constant companions, leaving me feeling incomplete and robbed of happiness. I wore a fake grin to hide the pain, pretending to have a life when I had never truly experienced one. My journey was marked by downs and downfalls, by sins and struggles that threatened to drive me insane.But through it all, I clung to my gift for writing, a talent that felt heaven-sent in the midst of my hellish existence. My words became a witness to the realities of life in the Black community, to the pain and strain that many endure silently. And now, as I share my story, I hope to offer solace to others on a similar journey.To all those riding the train of pain, I offer hope that things will pick up and change. I hope my words resonate with you, shedding light on the darkness of "The Nigger from the Black Lagoon."
