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How will I be remembered?

How will I be remembered?  I often think about that in my days at home when my mind is allowed to wonder away from the bullshit I've found myself in lately.

I went along with a guy who was taking stock photos in Hollywood Cemetery here in Richmond the other day.  As we walked and smoked, he took pictures and I would admire some of the really ornate headstones, obelisks, and memorials that were located in the historic cemetery.  It was a good break from always being in the house and brainwashing myself with CNN.  I was especially excited when I got to see some of the confederate graves and the grave site of Jefferson Davis, the former and only President of the Confederate States of America.  In my mind, "JD" (as his highway here in Richmond is affectionately called by locals) was a hero. He took a stand for something. Even though many people outside of the South did not quite appreciate or understand his position, he stood firm on what he felt was right.



I'm writing about this because it made me think about how I would be remembered after my death.  I'm not thinking about killing myself, so for the handful of y'all who actually read this, don't go worrying. I just allowed myself to think for a minute about what my legacy would be, or even if I'd be memorable enough for anything I've said or done to carry on to other generations.  Will I be remembered as the guy who did well in school and enjoyed teaching others anything they were willing to listen to?  Or will I be forgotten and only talked about when people try to tell stories about what not to do in life and how not to fuck things up?  I hope that it's not that latter, but I can't say for certain that what I've done so far will measure up to anything worthy of memory at all.

I don't see myself as anything special, and I have a hard time with understanding others' image of me even when they try to communicate it to me lovingly.  Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not fat or ugly... I might even be handsome and sexy. But, even given that admission, those things aren't aspects of who I am that I feel I can take credit for.  My parents did that, not me by myself.  The problem is that the things I do feel I had control over have not been developed to the level I feel I should have them by now.  And who's fault is that? Nobody but my own.

Despite how I see myself, how others see me would be more relevant when thinking about how I would be seen after I'm gone.  I hope that my friends and family who are left here would remember me as someone who truly tried his best to make a good life for myself against the odds that were stacked very high against me.  I hope they don't allow whatever dirty secrets that surface after I'm gone to make them see me in a different light than when they knew me.

All this depends on when I die.  If I were to die tragically in an accident now, I'm sure people would be shocked and a lot of pain. But if I grew old and died of old age and natural causes, how much time would that give me to change the narrative on how my life will be seen by those who would be left here to remember me.  My problem with that, is in the fact that I simply don't know what's to come.  Sure, I can be hopeful and optimistic, but I prefer reality than the other two. Being realistic, I know and understand that there is a slight possibility that I could somehow become a great man with a lot of influence and even notoriety.  But, I also understand that is going to be an uphill battle, and I don't know if I'm ready or even willing to take that on in my current state, mentally or physically.

I should probably pray more about it, but I am sure that I won't.  Prayer kinda goes against logic. I mean, if God is all-seeing and all-knowing can't He hear my thoughts?  I mean, He is GOD right?

Anyway, I'll leave that alone for now.  I'm just trying to sort things out and give myself some type of relief from the relentless bombardment of thoughts and scenarios that run through my mind day and night.


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"Better You Than Me"

"Better You Than Me"

Maybe you can help me better understand
Why you act like a little boy and not a grown ass man
You try to run the TV, all day stuck on BOUNCE
And you're a fiend for the coffee, always begging for an ounce
You've claimed more than once all you do is "get money"
But I see you in here with nothing, so something is funny
At the top of your lungs you holler and yell
But make an excuse for your behavior, saying "This is jail."
You've got 6 kids, and 4 baby mamas
But you beg me for a click so you can call and cause drama.
You claim to be hard, snatching ass every day
But you expect me to be polite in all that I say
You're on your way back to prison and it's so sad to see
But I'd rather it be you going up the road than me.