Midlife Crisis
I truly believe that I’m in the midst of a midlife crisis. Everything is coming into focus.
Like a long, flat, tree-lined vista, I see things clearly now.
However, the truths I once held to be self-evident are now obscure and ambiguous. Perhaps those truths are waning.
Truths turning into lies told to me.
Can a truth become a lie?
Or am I falsely learning, indoctrinating myself with bullshit?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that everything I was taught up until this point in my life has gotten me nowhere. I want to believe that the new knowledge I’ve been pouring into myself will guide me toward a healthier life.
But I’m still unhealed, clinging to unhealthy habits.
Some of the old things I’ve learned have become so deeply ingrained in me that I struggle to separate them from who I am.
And that scares me.
Because what if I’m wrong? What if I’m embarking on a path of unrighteousness?
But I’m only following myself.
I’m a good person.
Yet, according to the truths I was taught, the good die young, while these grimy niggas live a long time.
And no matter how hard I try, I cannot be a grimy nigga.
So, yeah.
I’m 38 and having a midlife crisis.
To be or not to be.
Good or grimy.
Kory, Shamar, or Blaq.
It’s a wrap for Hussain!
Blaq is a person who doesn’t fit. He’s not the person he needs to be to survive.
Blaq is a façade. A mask I created for the streets to believe that, if necessary, I’ll black the fuck out!
But that mask is what got me here.
He is not me!
But he is.
But he is not.
To let Blaq go is to be free.
Yet I’ve carried Blaq for so long that he’s become a part of me. He’s woven into my identity, stitched into the fabric of who I thought I needed to be.
And now I’m questioning whether the person I created to survive is the very person preventing me from living.
I’m at a crossroads in my life, standing in the middle of traffic, hesitant to move forward and tread my own path.
Midlife Crisis
