It’s about 10 in the morning in mid-July. Heading towards my senior year. I’m walking to the elementary with the homie to go play some basketball. We talking, laughing, enjoying ourselves.

I have a pressing issue on my mind that I’ve kept to myself for a while. Another friend of mine got beef, and I gave him my word I would get this sucka when I see him. I’m talking 187.

Let’s call this friend Homeboy.

A while back Homeboy was good friends with this dude. Homeboy is Norte, his homie is GD. He betrayed Homeboy over some petty shit. Took his weed and other belongings. Homeboy didn’t like that. One thing led to another. Now someone needs to be put to sleep.

Months later after receiving word of this. I finally gathered enough cash to get me a cuete. So I let the homie I’m with walk ahead of me and I make a phone call. I rang up this dude I known since middle school. We’re cool, he been to my house. I been to his. Got a lot of good memories. So I ask him about buying a toolie, we had a little conversation and he said he’d let me know.

After I hung up the homie said he heard me say toolie and asked what was up. I said don’t worry about it. He wasn’t buying it but let it go. So we continue on our quest to play basketball. We met up with another homie. Played 21 for a while. Smoked some herb. Then we all headed back to my place.

That was it.

Then a few days later I get a text from the guy I called. He said he couldn’t get me a tool. But he can get me a starter kit. So I accepted the offer. Couple hours later I leave the house, walk down the street and hop in the whip. We drive around my neighborhood a bit. The dude showed me the clear and the black. Told me the prices. Gave me a small scale. Gave me some advice about where to sell. This is all new to me. I handed him the $300 and he handed me the shit in a Newport pack. Then I hopped out the whip and went home.

I go to my room and just stared at the dope for a while. I didn’t know how to feel. Never had this shit before. I’ve sold weed before. But this is next level. I stash the shit in a shoebox and hide it under my bed. I hit up a couple homies and asked if they wanna chill. I didn’t know what to do at first so I wanted to take my mind off of it. Lowkey, I had a bad feeling. So I leave and head towards the middle school to meet up with one of my homies. Once we link up we walk towards the other homie’s crib. Once we all together we walk to Fred Meyers. We chill for a while. Then we all decide to walk to Bethel and play ball or whatever. But on the way there, a car drives by and pulls over into a neighborhood entrance.

It’s the people I just bought the shit from, so I tell the homies to hold up for a second and went to go talk to them. They accused me of running my mouth and said they’d smoke me if they have to. I knew right then and there I fucked up. I didn’t tell nobody nothing, but after that now my homies knew what I was getting into. They called me a dumbass and said they wasn’t gonna fuck with me no more. One of them went back home. The other one walked with me because our homes were in the same direction.

No words were said. I texted the guy I bought the dope from and said that was dumb. My homies had no idea what I was doing. You’re looking at the wrong person. Only noises came from the cars driving by. I was in my head thinking, “Damn, I can’t trust these people. But I known them since middle school. Maybe someone else was talking and they thought it was me. Maybe it’s an intimidation tactic. But fuck, I didn’t want my brothers to know. Now they’re lives may be put in danger because of my own decisions.”

Eventually another car pulls over. It’s a friendly face. Another homie I knew since middle school. He picks me and my homie up and drops us off at my place. He drives off. Me and the homie had a little conversation about my decision. Said he’s still my brother. Then walked home. I just went inside. Drank some water then went to my room.

I play some South Park Mexican, reflecting on everything that happened that day. So much went down in a span of 6 hours. I should’ve gave the drugs back. But I didn’t want to be soft. Plus, I wanted some dough and I didn’t want to work no 9-5.

So I calculate how I’m a make my $300 back. I was told a point of black goes for $25. I had 6. That’s $150. I had 2.5g of clear. That’s $250. $400 total. $100 profit. If I can buy and sell this much each week that’s $400. Over time I’ll be able to buy more and sell more. In 2 months I should be making $1000 a month if I move right.

So the next day I decide to get started. I wake up, shower, crease my khaki Dickies, clean my black Converses, then throw on a black tee and a black Mariners fitted. My mom cooked eggs and bacon so I go eat real quick. I tell my mom I’m a go chill with the homies. I head out around noon. Hot as fuck, probably 90 or 100 degrees. I got a water bottle and the shit in my pocket. I got a machete tucked at my waistline. I walk to Fred Meyers. I go post up on the side but notice a squad car. So I keep walking to Walmart. I chill on the side scouting for tweakers to sell to. After a hour and finding no one. I move to a different spot. Still nothing. I realize that this ain’t going to work. It’s mid-day. Tweakers are night owls. I ain’t into the business of asking everyone if they need some. I want to keep a low profile.

So I head home. I walk by Fred Meyers and on the side the squad car disappeared. Then I notice a dude in his car, passed out, foam all over his face. He over dosed. I stare for a little bit. I didn’t really care. Then I look at the time and decide to finish walking home. Then I hear a car starting, I look back, dude just woke up, wipes his face, chugged the rest of his Four Loko and drives away. I’m thinking that could’ve been my first customer, but I thought he was dead.

As fucked up as it sounds, it gave me hope. Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.

I get home, walk to my room. Tuck the machete under my mattress and the dope back in the shoe box.

I get into shorts and a tank top and go play 2k the rest of the night.

Next day, same shit. I starch my Levi’s, throw on a white tee, red Adidas, and a black beanie. Get the dope, Machete tucked. Tell my mom I’m heading out. Then I go to Fred Meyers again.

I wait there. Nothing. Go to Walmart. Nothing. I walk around the area looking for good spots. Nothing. Ain’t no tweakers during the day no where. So I say fuck it. I hit up the homie to go smoke. We go to an elementary school. He rolls up a joint as I hit the vape. We talking about life, philosophy, ancient cultures and how we’re going to crumble one day like them. Then he sparks the joint and asks why I chose to sell dope. I paused, I felt the disappointment. I told him that I just wanted to make some money. I didn’t want to work a 9-5. I wanted to be my own boss. Then he just shook his head and told me “That’s stupid, but if that’s what you want to do then go head, nigga. If I’m with you and you get caught with the shit, I’m snitching on you. I don’t want nothing to do with none of that.” I said “That’s cool, I don’t want you to suffer from my choices. These are my decisions, I’m doing this to make money, I don’t want my mom to pay for my shit no more. She tryna get us a house. If you snitch, it’s cool, you still my nigga. I don’t want to ruin yo life.” Then he asked if the shit was on me. I said yes. He shook his head again. But changed the subject. We just talked for a while. After two joints we played some ball. Then we eventually went our own ways.

It’s almost dark when I got home. I walk through the door. My mom and little sister greets me. I put the shit in my room then go eat dinner.

Me and my family have some light conversation. I smile but my mom reads emotions pretty well. She’s knows something is up. She asks what’s on my mind. I say nothing, just a long, tiring walk. I finish dinner then I go to my room. Bump some Mac Dre and think about balling and write a Rap.

“I don’t give a fuck I’m thuggin/ so much goin on I feel nothin/ only a matter of time fo slugs start bussin/ y’all got nice lives I’m out here tryna function/ fam think I’m doin heroin but I’m not/ if you keep starin, you finna get rocked/ on a road of deciet/ no one here it’s jus me/ swagged out thinkin violence but wantin peace/ at midnight I walk alone in the streets/ either settlin beefs, or I’m smokin weed/ thinkin bout doin the unthinkable, the unreasonable/ you don see what I got but you gon feel it tho/ I’m a good person put in bad situations/ if we got problems, you fallin on the pavement/ I ain’t never been locked up, but I prolly will/ maybe drug possession, maybe blood spills/ I have fears but it’s overpowered by anger/ when I get mad, everybody’s a stranger/ do what you want I ain’t tryna be a hater/ but postin yo business online’s doin cops a favor/ dry snitches everywhere so I keep to myself/ all snitches die damn I’m prolly goin to hell…”

I forget the rest but that was my mindset. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. But I did it anyways, and didn’t really know why. I was picturing what my life choices will lead to. I knew it was wrong but I didn’t care.

I play 2k again the rest of the night. Then I get a text from my “supplier”. He said it was cool. I understand. You’re nervous, this is new to you. Y’all are homies. You work as a team. But the thing is, I wasn’t nervous. I didn’t get shook when they threatened me. And my homies wasn’t gonna help me. So I was like “Fuck, now they’re assuming all of us are in on it.” So I go smoke a Swisher and sleep.

For a little less than a week I spend my days trying different spots during the day. Can’t find no one. My “supplier” texts me asking if I dropped the weight. I told him I didn’t. I can’t find no clientele during the day. So I hit up one of his homies and express my issues. So we linked up and he drove me around Spanaway, Tacoma, Federal Way, Auburn, everywhere. We was chiefing his bong. Got high to the point where I didn’t feel like selling drugs no more. We got lazy. Maybe it’s due do paranoia, distrust, and the fact he asked if I wanted to smoke meth. But I think the shit was laced or something. I didn’t feel right at all. This muthafucka was supposed to be clean too. Another red flag. We eventually went to Sprinker and spotted some tweakers. I hopped out and asked if they wanted to buy something. They said no. So I hop back in the whip and said fuck it, I’m high. Not today.

So he ends up hitting up one of my homies to go kick it. I didn’t think much of it because they’ve known each other for a while.

The homie hops in the whip and we go to fish. Then, I just couldn’t walk and I was about to pass out. I ain’t never felt that bad before. Not sure if it was green sickness or if the shit was laced. But I’ve smoked way more weed than that and never felt like that. So I still don’t know. They took me home and I went to my room and just passed out.

Couple days pass. My “supplier” asks if he could buy some of the black and clear off me. I was kind of confused, because I just bought this shit from him like 5 or 6 days before. But I said fuck it. Why not. I asked for some Swishers too. So I sold him some of the black and clear. I now would have a little more that half of what I originally had.

So they said they’ll be in my neighborhood around 2 in the morning.

I just sit and wait. I measure out the shit. Then they text me saying their close.

I throw on some shoes and a hoodie and sneak out. I meet up with them down the street. We exchange. Then they leave and I head back home.

The whole time though, I didn’t like the vibe. Something was off.

I walk home, go to my room. Grab a lighter. Then I go smoke in the backyard.

I just think to myself. “If they sold me the shit, why they asking to buy it back?” Then I started thinking “Damn, maybe they not really dealers like that. Maybe I bought all they had.”

I was confused and disappointed. I feel like my suppliers ain’t really shit. Not people I can really rely on for product.

I finish smoking and go back to my room and just sleep, listening to some Nipsey Hussle.

I wake up. Same routine. Walk around looking for clientele that won’t be there in broad daylight. I ain’t never gon sell this shit.

It’s been 12 days since I bought the shit and I still had some of it.

My family decides to go to American Lake. I decide to go with them. But before we leave. I get a text. One of the people I bought the shit from hit me up and said he needs some clear. He told me his grandpa just died and he needs a little something to relieve himself. I said “Cool, no problem. When you wanna meet up?” He said right now. I’m like fuck. I’m with my family and my homie about go to the lake. But, I told him no problem. Bring some cash and I’ll slide you some of the shit. He told me that he doesn’t have the money right now. He’ll get some cash when he sells his dirtbike in a couple days. I’m like “Ight man. I guess this once. I get you suffering from a loss.” So we agree to meet sometime around 5 or 6 at the lake.

So I go to my room, I already got my machete tucked, I always have it on me. I just grab the Newport pack and put it in my pocket. Then leave to pick my homie up, then to the lake.

We got to the lake, set everything up, and my elders start cooking whatever. Burgers, hotdogs, there’s chips, soda. It’s nice and relaxed. Me and the homie cracking jokes. It’s a fun time.

Then I get a message. They’re coming to the lake. I tell them where I’m at and said to park away from my family. I don’t want none of that around them. Eventually they get there. I say I’m a go use the bathroom. But I meet by their car. I give them the clear. I sympathize with the dude a little. Giving my condolences. Then head back to my family. But these muthafuckas are drunk and decide to see my family anyways. Their asses got their car stuck on a rock. They drive in the water. My grandma asks “Who are they? Are they drunk?” I just said I know them from school and that I don’t think so.

That was it. Then left pretty quickly. We continue our day and then eventually we pack everything up. The homie spends the night at my house. We play video games. It’s a cool day.

But here’s the thing. I only got .5g of the clear and .2g of the black left. I ain’t making no profit. This dude owes me money. He says it’ll be a couple days. Couple days turned into four. Then a week. Then he goes ghost. I hit up one of his homies and ask about it. Then he said it ain’t his business. It’s between me and him. So it’s a week and a half. I make a FB post saying “Unpaid debts may result in death.” I was quoting a song. But the dude at 6 in the morning thought I was throwing subs. He hits me up and threatens that I ain’t getting my money and that he’ll run up in my house, they told me the wrong prices from the beginning, I bought $130 worth of product for $300. I replied “Go head, run up in my house. I don’t suggest it. And that’s some fuck shit.” He wanted to meet up and fight me. I said I ain’t doing none of that. I’ll see you when I see you and I better not see you anywhere near my home. Then I unfriended him. He messages me again. I look at it, we continue the conversation. He said he’s on his way. But I made it clear not to come to my fuckin house. He never came.

I messaged my OG homie. He don’t live out here but we’re close. He said that I fucked up and shit. We have a long conversation. It sucked.

I got taken advantaged of from the beginning and played right into their game. Now, if I’m at the wrong place at the wrong time, I could be done. They know where I live. They know where most my homies live. It’s fucked up. I hit up both my closest homies and said be careful and don’t trust them muthafuckas. I explained that they fucked me over. One of my homies said damn man, okay, I got you. The other homie said damn, okay, thanks for letting me know.

Another week passed by. I never left the house by myself. I was scared. I never let my mom go anywhere without me, except work. She doesn’t know. Nobody does except me, my new enemies, and three of my closest homies. One of them was Homeboy, but he moved to a different city so there’s no way of meeting up with him. He got his own battles. The other two live down the street.

I have a conversation with one of them expressing a slight distrust of the other homie. The homie I’m talking to has no ties to none of them, he don’t talk to them, nothing. The homie I’m talking about was friends with these people before we became super close. We talked about the possibility of him knowing what was up. But we ruled it out quick because that’s our brother. That’s as close to blood as you can get. He probably just kicks it with them sometimes if anything. We literally see each other at least every other day.

I remember sophmore year when we had class together. We just started out as class buddies. I known him since middle school but we never really clicked. But we get familiar with each other and realize that we got a lot in common from music, to philosophy, to politics, everything. So we decide to kick it at my place. We write some raps but eventually talk about philosophy and ancient history. This muthafucka pulls out a bag of weed and asked if we can smoke. I said “Hell no, unless you wanna die.” Mind you, I never smoked before, and my mom doesn’t allow that shit. I was an alcoholic, real bad. But never smoked. So he puts it away. He was only over for a little bit. But eventually got picked up by his step-dad. But since then. He started coming over more frequently. I noticed we wears the same clothes everyday. I get to know him more and more. He lived in an RV and only had two outfits. So I literally gave him my whole wardrobe and just bought some new clothes for myself. I made sure he had more clothes than me. Sometimes he’d go a day without eating. So I let him come over whenever he needed a meal. At one point he couldn’t shower at his place. So he’d stop by every day or every other day and shower. I took care of this dude. I literally did everything you could do for someone. In return, he introduced me to weed. Smoked me out every weekend. This was when I was at my lowest. I hit rock bottom and drank everyday. I was super depressed. I was real close to suicide. He pretty much saved me. We just created a bond. We was like brothers. We understood each other. Our minds were on the same frequency. I knew everything about him. From the shit he did when he was a kid, the women he fucked, he even told me when he was younger he got raped by his uncle. He new my whole life story too. He told me that when he turns 18, he’s going to travel the world. Go to Mexico, Jamaica, Africa, Shaolin temples, everywhere. He wanted to go on that journey with me. So me and the other homie agreed he would never be in some plot against me. He wouldn’t hang with people that want to hurt me. But we still didn’t tell him everything just incase.

My mom wants to take me to Seattle to go watch Big 3 basketball, the league Ice Cube started. I’m like “Fuck yeah!” But I didn’t say that because I would get hit. So I hit up the two homies and asked if they want to go. They both said yes. So a couple days later I get up early and get ready. I hit these people up telling them to be ready. I pick up one homie. Then we head over to the other homie’s house. His ass literally just woke up. So it took a while for him to get ready. But we got him up. We go to Denny’s by Walmart. Eat breakfast. Then we go all the way to Seattle. I grab the AUX cord after convincing my mom to let me use it. We go the whole way there bumping SPM, Z-Ro, Big Tone, Nipsey Hussle, just a bunch of random albums that were saved on my phone. But, everyone falls asleep. I’m just jamming out with my mom. But she doesn’t like my music as much as I do.

We get to Seattle. We find a parking spot. We go to the arena. We missed half of the first game. But it was okay. I saw Rashard Lewis dominate. I saw Allen Iverson coaching. Bill Russell was a few rows ahead of me. The White Mamba wasn’t too far from him. Ice Cube sat like 5-6 rows ahead of me. It was dope. The whole experience was awesome. Shit was lit. Food was good. It was an all day event pretty much. The games were physical as hell. Sir Mix-A-Lot was DJing. So much dope shit going on.

But all good things come to an end. We get up and leave. We take a picture. Then leave. The car ride home is the same. These fools pass out. We listening to my music. Fun times.

My mom takes us to Jack In The Box. We eat. We have a good time. I drop one of the homies off at his house. The other homie spends the night at my house. Then goes home the next day.

After that I don’t hang with no one for 4 days. Me and one of my other homeboys make a bet on the Floyd and Conor fight. I bet $100 Floyd would win. Then Floyd won. But my friend didn’t want to pay me. Told me to fight his friend for the money. So I agreed to the terms. I didn’t like his friend anyways.

It’s close to midnight. So I call up one of my homies to go with me to fight this dude incase he got people with him. But he didn’t answer. I assumed he was sleeping.

I call my other homie for the same reason. But he didn’t answer the phone. Someone else did. It’s a familiar voice. I ask “Who is this?”. Then he said “Who is this?”. I said “No, the fuck is this?”. He replied “Tell me who you are first.” I said “It’s Anthony.” He said “This is ******.” I paused for a second. Then immediately, I say “Where the fuck is my money?” We have a little argument. I’m not thinking at all, I’m just reacting. We agree to meet up and fight that same night. Then he hung up. My homie texted me saying “I have nothing to do with this. I would never plot against you. Remember when I said we’re like brothers? I met that.” I replied “Fuck you.”

I wasn’t having none of that.

Then I had a mental breakdown. I started punching my bed. Punching my walls. Throwing shit. Threw my phone across the room. I was just so angry and pissed off at the whole shit. The homie wants me to fight his homie over a bet. Then all this shit. I fed this nigga, I clothed this nigga, he would be at my house for weeks straight. He basically lived at my house. I did EVERYTHING for this due. I took him to go see his first live basketball game. He was fed. But he can’t even be loyal to me. He hangs with my enemies. Knowing what’s going on. Then I stopped. I just fall on my knees and rest my head on my bed and start crying. I cried for 10 minutes straight. Then I just had a sudden adrenaline rush again and started hitting shit. Then I cried again. Then I get a text saying “Meet me at the school.” I’m just so pissed. I’m filled with sorrow. I was betrayed to the highest degree.

I throw on some clothes and only bring my phone. I didn’t bring my machete because I knew that would cause more problems. I should’ve never made the decision in the first place but I wasn’t thinking straight. I just had so much emotions and so many thoughts going on in my head. It’s a 20 minute walk there. I knew I was getting my ass beat regardless what happens. I knew there’s a  possibility that I may not make it to the next day. But I didn’t care. I felt like a piece of me was taken away. I felt… empty.

I get there and wait 10 minutes. I look at the time. It’s 2:07am. I tuck my phone under a rock because I knew I was getting robbed or my pockets ran or something. Eventually they pull up. 4 people in the car. I saw my best friend in the back seat. Never looked at me once. I see this big muthafucka get out the car and look around. He’s like 6’4, probably 300lbs. He’s a big, fat fuck. But I’m just looking at my homie.

Then I catch a right, then a left, then a right. I’m stunned and step back. Then for like 15 seconds I’m just punching him with hooks over and over straight to the face. I’m just wailing on him. Then he grabs me, and throws me on the ground. Kicks me in the back of the head, over, and over again. I don’t even know. Probably like 30 times. Seemed like it. Then he stops, walks away. I try to get up, I look at him. Then he runs at me and kicks me right in the face. He runs my pockets. But I don’t have anything. He hops in the car. Says “There’s your fuckin money.” And drives off.

I stand up, then stumble on the ground again. Then I get up back up and grab my phone. Start walking home. I lose feeling in my right arm and leg. Then I regain feeling. Then I lose the feeling. Then I regain it. All the way home. My left eye is all fuzzy and blurry. I can’t think straight. A 20 minute walk there was a 40 minute walk home. Felt like hours. Halfway home I see a pack of coyotes. They run towards me. Then they run somewhere else. But I didn’t care.

I just feel empty.

I get home. I go to my room. Get into shorts and a tank top. I feel my head. I got a big ass knot on the back of my head and another one on the side. So I grab a couple ice packs. Put them on my head.

Then the homie calls 4. He said he was sleeping and asked why I called. I just start crying and saying everything that happened. I was hurt. I was trying to process everything that happened. I was betrayed. But I couldn’t really speak clearly. Then I don’t remember the rest. I just passed out.

Next day I wake up at 8. I go drink water. Then play 2k and pass out.

I wake up at noon. Play 2k for a little while. Then I pass out.

I woke at 5 to my grandpa yelling at me to mow the yard. I head a real bad headache. I take a couple Tylenol and go mow the yard. That seemed really hard to do. Then I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I got bruises on my face and you can see the knots.

I avoided everyone the best I could for a few days. No one ever said anything. But I’m sure someone noticed.

I go back to my room. Pass out. I just keep passing out at random times for at least a week. I’m pretty sure I had a concussion.

This is when I became an intern for SygnsMedia. I was doing shows with them and what not. Wrote album reviews. But I stopped doing all that for a little while. My whole fuckin life changed overnight.

This happened a week and 2 days before school started.

I just stayed in my room and played 2k. Didn’t go no where. When school started. I didn’t talk to no one. I talked to my best friend a little but, I just couldn’t really talk to him. He said told me I got out of prison by the look on my face. I talked to this one girl in class a little. I’ve had feelings for her since sophmore year. But it was minimal. I just listened to my music and kept to myself. For my own protection, and my family’s. Only person I would really talk to at school was my little sister. But that’s because I was very protective. I’d check up on her a lot. I’d die before I let my decisions harm the people I love.

When my grandparents left to go trucking. I slept with their gun under my pillow. In fact, I never got any sleep. I’d wake up in cold sweats multiple times every night. Nightmares of what happened, and what could happen. Some nights I couldn’t help but drink myself to sleep. So many thoughts and emotions. Then I’d have to go to school the next day. I smoked weed at night and in the mornings occassionally. I did my best to fight my battles alone. But sometimes I needed temporary relief. It was too much for me.

My tobacco addiction got worse too.

This was how school started for me.

As time went on I slowly started to open up to certain people. But I still couldn’t fully leave my shell. I was just… broken. No help. I just went it all alone. Went months without hanging out with anyone. Nothing was the same.

This is what lead me to write this book.

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