I'm slippin', but I'm still here.
Out of the hundreds, maybe even thousands of people I know, I still feel as if none of them truly understand me. But listening to my favorite music artists, people who I have never met in my life and would be lucky to make acquaintance with, I feel as if all of them understand me, in such a way that is not humanly possible, that they understand me so much that words do not even need to be spoken if we were to be in the same room together. Why is it that total strangers seem, to me, like old friends?
Poverty, education, friendships, love. I am unemployed, living off the welfare that is the presence of those around me. Uneducated in the ways of social interaction, my friendships lie in bad company and I have not experienced the meaning of true, requited love. Through these tough times, music is what keeps me going, and I feel as if the people who make it are the only ones who truly get it. The ones who have faced adversity on such a scale that I cannot even become to imagine, and have defeated it to get where they are today, spittin' their soul on the mic for people like me to hear. These are my kind of people.
Perhaps no one will ever truly understand the love that I have. The love that I possess for my family, my friends, for music and food, for football games in HD and late-night conversations, for vacations long-gone and memories of happier days, for feeling and blinking and breathing. A love that runs so deep throughout my veins that I cannot even begin to describe it, so deep that I cannot say what it is, only how much I will miss it if it ever went away.
Someday, someone will share this with me. Until then, it's just a hard-knock life.
