Blackmail

It’s 5 AM on a crisp Tuesday morning in Crawford, Georgia. I’ve resolved to get up before the sun in order to be more than what I was. I’ve known for some time now that I have a shit ton of more “can” in me.

I CAN be more personable in my interactions. I CAN be more consistent in my writings. I CAN be more of a creator (as opposed to just a consumer). I CAN be more present in my life.

During my bout with cancer, I told myself that when I get passed it, I would live more. That I would take more chances & stop hiding behind a veneer of “I’ve got time”. I bartered my creativity, my mind, the core of who I am; all in exchange for more opportunities to breathe this air, walk on this soil & experience this time.

In a sense, I bargained with God.

As a result, I feel obligated to do something worthwhile with these constant gifts of 24 hours.

According to the bargain I made/the jargon I’ve laid, the debt I paid is living creatively. A tit-for-tat, a this for that, not completely unlike blackmail. I’ll take these gifts of breath, wrap ’em in content & depth because constant monotonous nonsense is death. An extraordinary life is what’s next for this black male.

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