Diary of A Black Man #2

Dear Diary,

Growing up ain’t easy and its even more difficult when you had no example. You ever feel like you just throwing some shit together and hope it come out right. Well that is me and I force the issue. Like this is what maturity and being a man looks like.

Yet in all honesty, I don’t know. Me and my father well let’s just say we share a face and name but outside of such we are totally different yet ironically the same. My goal is to be better than I felt he was for me. Yet I feel I was born without a compass because he wasn’t there for me. My first fight I remember, a kid swinging and my first reaction was weave and swing back. Luckily I connected and he didn’t. So my life has been a series of weave and counters.

I remember our talk on the birds and the bee’s it went like this, “hey here is some condoms make sure you wrap it up.” I was a virgin at the time but had made Varsity Football so in his mind, pussy was the next thing up for me. I went well over a year with almost 100 condoms and never even sniffed, felt, or interacted with a vagina. Funny how when I actually got to it, I was so eager to prove I was the man. I barely took into consideration the women I accumulated. Sex was more of a sport and definitely a form of frustration release, or a reward for on the field accolades. It slowly became a vice.

I took a lot from him though his mannerisms, my love for underground gangster music, an insatiable desire to flirt and woo women, as well as hustle. Not certain where I got my work ethic from but I am sure it was my mom as she worked everyday of my life.

Like I said growing up aint easy not because I don’t want to but simply, most days, I just don’t know how to or what it is I’m missing or pursuing.

Today felt like:

“What’s Next?”

Today’s Questions:

“Where am I heading?”

“How do I get better?”