I DO NOT look like my story by A.Dakala

Working in corporate America is similar to a domestic violence victim covering her scars with make-up.

Everyone has an untold story, some bad turned good; some good turned bad. No one watches the news for good news, news is watched with the intentions of something going terribly wrong.

As I was writing this I thought of a few individual stories that I couldn’t resist from speaking on. I will save my story for last.

No one expected Eugene’s life to sparrow out of control the way it did. I mean he had a very strict up bringing as a child and parents who were adamant about him getting a better education. Anything that came too easy was settling in the eyes of his parents. Soon Eugene started to become rebellious; as other kids teased him about the unbranded name of clothes and shoes he wore. His parents were very frugal about the family’s needs and wants; plus there wasn’t a lot of money coming in the house.

As a means to connect with other kids just to fit in, Eugene got into playing sports early; a requirement his father was religious about. By the time he was in middle School he was a star athlete in every sport he played. As his popularity grew so did his ego. Seeing his name in the local newspaper every week; seem to be the only time Eugene would have a smile on his face.

Becoming interested in girls started taking priority over sports. Now that he’s in high school; getting a job to impress the girls became his top concern. He was very popular among his peers in the sport arena. Some even wore self-made jerseys on the school’s game day to display their suppose and liking of him during the school’s home game Friday pep rallies.

How could a star football player with such a nasty temper and even worse attitude be the face of such successful school. The football coaches had seen enough of his pre-Madonna activities towards his team mates. One day Eugene was seen cuddled up with a female outside of the boys locker room; when he should have been on the practice field. As the coaches watched and took notes, Eugene took his time getting to the practice. Not knowing that the coaches had enough of his rock star attitude, the head coach single Eugene out in front of everyone. Collectively they decided to kicked him off the team immediately.

As Eugene stormed off the field in a rage; he didn’t know his life would take a turn from that day.

Three months before he was to graduate from high school Eugene gets into a fight with another student and breaks the young man’s nose. The school called the police to have him arrested and expelled him for the year; in which means he wouldn’t graduate with his class.

He did manage to go tonight school and get his GED but the streets started to look attractive to him. It wouldn’t take him long to start selling drugs in his neighborhood. I know what you saying, same shit different day. But, everybody’s story has a different outcome.

Fast forward money came quick and before long I found myself addicted to hustling. I knew that I still needed my education just in case the street money slowed down. Each week I was lacing my body with tattoos, looking for that particular image. My journal I had been keeping for years turn into songs of pain. It was my source of crying out; not for help but I just wanted anyone to listen to my pain that no one could feel. So now my body art has me looking like a thug, I enrolled in college as a Golden Bull freshman working towards a Business degree. I was so undecided on what I wanted to major in, but finally got it right after three changes. College student during the day, lab tech in the evenings and drug dealer at night.

Fast forward ten years with a body full of tattoos. Entered me; the corporate thug. On the outside my life look grand, big beautiful homes, fancy cars, love life could be better, but we all are works in progress.

I hide behind my career from all the evil things i have done in life and to people, surrounding my time in the streets. I don’t regret my past but it often leaves memorable scars. To look at me you would not be able to tell am i a K.I.N.G.!

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