Gangster Points

Now, you might be wondering, what does Kelly mean by the term 11th commandment. Well, you don't know this but there really is an 11th commandment. And this is "Thou shalt not get caught".

Well, it's time for me to take a nap, see you all in the morning.

The chilling echoes of my own choices ........... hmmmm, this assaulted Elsa. Bad choices. Pride and ego ultimately became part of my moral compass. Clear judgement, nahhhh. At the time, reasoning was underrated. Times when emotional control felt like weakness. Felt like I was in my prime. Aware, chasing "gangster points", a currency of false respect from an audience that almost never mattered. Pathetic.

At times, silence is not just quiet, because it just reminds one of the times he/she made noises, chasing the worthless. Wasted potential. It's crazy how we twist self respect. People don't challenge themselves these days, they just feel entitled. Entitled to have a title at the grand stage. A notion embraced by many many men, and women. Pride featuring ego were like engraved in me. Emotional control? Mehn, that was like a joke to me. Used to believe the path to being 'somebody' meant doing the worst stuff. And you know what, nothing held me back. Slowly, with time, I also became a force to pull people behind. Drugs, stupid risks and outright cruelties. I did anything to feel big, even for a moment. But at the end of the day, I still remained a small fish in a pond. Still didn't ponder.

Ahhhhhh. You thought quiet was bad? No. What truly hit me was the deafening void left by my own arrogance. Maybe its better to be the void itself. So far, you should have known what gangster points are. Points accumulated after causing fear and receiving fake respect. In some way, I saw this as an opportunity to get respect I deserve. But I was just a boy from the hood. Someone supposed to be good. Someone meant to do good. My momma prayed for me to strengthen my roots. Yet, good boy became hood boy, running around Grapeville, looting, shooting and causing mayhem. My good side had drops of grease in it, but my bad side, all I had in it were other people's tears, blood and ash. Both of my sides, though unbalanced, had almost similar odds of a win. I was fighting myself, and all that were caught in the crossfire suffered terribly. Forgive me Grace, a sister I hope I have forever, my sunshine. I ponder much of our young life as kids. So wonderful.

I made efforts to impress the lowest common denominator. An audience I felt like I needed. I needed to earn that hollow nod that celebrated destruction. I'm embarassed. This one time, some members of my gang came to where I was, asleep, deep, drunk. These broken men and women came with a tatoo machine and guess what, they ruined my face permanenly. A tatoo of a cigarette around the right corner of my mouth. The words 'drugs' were written with a horrible handwriting on my forehead. I still have it.

So now it's morning. I heading to the railway station. As I walk out of my house, I can feel the fresh air outside. A change from the smell of cigars, emptiness, loneliness, violence, the feeling that I am immortal. From a restaurant glass, I am able to see a leaping guy crawling through the busy streets of Grapeville. No matter how they are, they still change the world some way. They still find a way to make the world a better place for the most of us. "I see" . I reach the station and crowds of travellers are gathered there. Some in silence, just standing there, some in their phones, some talking to each other. I join some guy seated on a bench, wearing a white suit, and he asks, "What have you learnt so far?" . I answer, "That everyone has their own struggles. We just see ourselves more troubled because that is our nature. My nature. But I am surely ready to change!", I declared.

And that's when I woke up. My alarm was ringing loud. Time to rejoin the busy world and be happy about it.