To be happy you need to be comfortable in your own skin.
In a place you don’t hate.
Around people you love.
Doing work that doesn’t leave you empty.

I want to die my hair different colors and get tattoos and wear the kind of clothes that I wish I could wear. Get a job that is at least fun even if it pays shitty. Move to another state. I’m tired of saying “someday”.

I hate being stuck. Every year I get older, and every year I haven’t even begun to live the life I want to live.

What a waste. Waiting on people is a waste.

Waiting on yourself is a waste.

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.
Henry David Thoreau (via psych-facts)

I’m a huge NERD

I will never be able to get all the thug out if my blood.
It’s a way of life,
Once you’ve lived it, you can’t just go and be this pristine privileged wanabee.

You never forget being hungry. Really hungry.
You never forget being cold and not having a warm place to go.
You never forget being scared. For your life.
You never forget true loneliness of having no one.
You never forget what time the hot pavement is cool enough to lay on.
You never forget surviving.

You never forget the first thing you did to rid the pain.
The first time you stole from the grocery store.
The first time you ran from the cops.
The first time you put a needle through your face…
Or into your arm.
The first friend you saw die.
The first parent you saw get locked away.
The first time you sold drugs to a kid.
The first time you took clothes off to pay bills.
The first time you whooped someone’s ass.
The first time you got a black eye.
The first time you realized you couldn’t stop.
The first time you realized you didn’t want to.

You never forget the anger
Or pain
Or sadness.
The feeling of hating who you are and where you came from.
The feelings of being another nameless street rat.
The feeling of always hiding.
Wanting to be nameless.

But you never forget the feeling of beating the odds.
Being a pregnant teen college dropout is beating the odds.
The odds said I should’ve been dead.

It got better for me…

But I see shit everyday and think
It’s true.
I didn’t choose the thug life,
The thug life chose me.

It’s not a joke,
Tupac wasn’t playing
When he said that,
And then got shot to death.

You can get out, but you never really change.
And it sucks.
The night terrors don’t disappear.

But at least when I wake up I’m living the dream…

Even if part of me is never really there.

My real love is the streets
The streets
The streets raised me.