God's Broken Lil' Baby. E. Jay Ford
like shit is never going to get better. Don’t get me wrong, I have had some amazing exciting days, but my bad days are a fucking disaster. I don’t know if they are intensified because I’m a total drama queen or if they are really that bad. I have so much love in my life, but because of the events that have happened, I sometimes can’t see it. I’m blinded by rage, anger, depression, hurt, jealousy, humiliation, and a number of other emotions that have destroyed me over the years.
This is my story. I don’t use names just because I don’t want to. I deal easier that way. The events are real or as close to real as I can recollect. Everything you read is coming from my soul. The pain is real. Purpose—that is a strong word. Purpose of life. Purpose of death. The purpose for this story to be told is for me to understand me. The chapters are as I remember my life. That’s how my brain works. It’s random. Each chapter number represents the age I was at the time of the event in my life. There are others just like me out there, you are not alone. There are so many reasons to believe you are, but believe me when I say you are not. Those around you can beat you down until you actually start to believe the shit they say about you. It wasn’t until I got a backbone and become mean as fuck that I become comfortable. I built this wall of hate that makes people not like me. I became unbearable and do it to ensure that no one wants to be around me. I am truly a bitch, and I really don’t care. When you give people a reason not to not to like you, it feels so much better than you being a good person and people treat you like shit for no reason. That is exactly what I did. It’s exactly what I do.
I was recently told I suffer from depression, anxiety, and Post Traumatic Syndrome Disorder (PTSD). Mental health and Black people were not two subjects talked about nor placed in the same sentence when I was growing up. I don’t know why. What I do know is I’ve hated for as long as I can remember, but I was armed with one hell of a team. My siblings are my everything. We are as close as siblings can get. I’m the oldest, and they are my babies. They give me life. My mommy turned out to be my lifeline. It wasn’t always that way. Growing up with parents addicted to drugs is the fuckin’ worst. Don’t get me wrong, I know they loved me, but crack controlled them. My daddy left. I’ll tell you about that later. My mommy, no matter how bad shit got, kept her kids through it all. That shit didn’t matter as a child. There was a point in my life I couldn’t stand her ass. As far as I was concerned, she was the reason everything was wrong in my life. That absolutely changed, and as an adult, she was my rock. I could call her about anything.
My mommy had nine brothers and sisters. My aunties and uncles are the shit. We have the biggest group of comedians in the world. When you add alcohol to the mix, shit gets real. Last but not least, my grandparents are the truth I have never seen such strength. They raised ten children in the projects of East St. Louis, Illinois. They are the best couple, still until this day, I have ever known. I didn’t take advantage of so much of what I was being taught as a youth. I have so many regrets.
Truth be told, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I have had enough greatness in my life to know that God is real. The family and friends I have I know for sure were picked for me by God. They are perfect for me. When I learned who I was and realized what they, people in my life, have endured to love me, I am brought to tears at the thought of their love and loyalty to me. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but love has healed most of them. I have some strong ass women in my life, and they have made me the soldier I am today. I still consider myself God’s broken li’l baby.
Chapter 23
23 Damn, Not My Brother
Death of My Brother
There were five of us, and now there are four.
I think it was the hardest disappointment I had ever taken.
Gone before I had a chance to say goodbye,
not a reality until you are at the funeral and my family is in mourning.
Sorrow and pain are my new best friends.
Momma and Daddy are in disbelief.
He was eighteen and already six feet deep.
It’s been a while now, and the void is still there.
To me, it will never be clear
how you are here one day and the next day you are gone.
I have the feeling and more that I that are like no other
all this insanity from the death of my brother.
He’s dead. Just like that, he’s gone. He was eighteen years old. I had a feeling it was going to happen, but it still wasn’t real. My little brother was shot in the head last night. He tried to rob the dope man. Story has it that he and his best friend and one other nigga hatched this plan with another lame ass dude after a couple of bad life events. The one nigga he was hatching this plan with was one of the low-life ass dudes that had been hanging around our family for a while and started dating one of my family members. We knew him from the hood, but that lame ass dude was no more hood than my granny. Dude was soft as cake mix. The dude that gave them this inside information on who to rob was a close friend of Mr. Lame Ass. That’s where my brother went all the way wrong because to be all the way honest with you, both of the niggas were some snakes. Listening to them was step number 1 to losing his life. Hittin’ a lick with some non-gangsta shady ass dudes at their behest was dumb as fuck. My brother’s best friend was there, but he just followed my brother. I mean, it was his best friend, so he went along with it.
Anyway, they sat around getting high and drunk and decided they were going to execute this dumb shit. Now let me set the scene. Dope man lived on the third floor of Village Square Apartments in Indianapolis, Indiana, on the corner of 30th and Moller Road. There was only one way in and one way out of this apartment. They “heard” the dope man was out of town, so they needed to act now. Dude said he knew where the safe was. This was supposed to be an in-and-out job. My brother had on the only Halloween mask; the other two had bandanas covering their faces. They left their ID cards and shit at my sister’s house down the street. Here was where shit really got ridiculous. My brother was the only one with a fuckin’ weapon. His best friend had a can of mace, and this ignorant ass third man had an aerosol can of some kind of house cleaner he was supposed to use to blind the housemates. What in thee fuck! Whose idea was that? I don’t know, and I’m still trying to figure out why that shit was a go.
Night fell and it had hit the peak of the wee hours. They had decided it was time to execute. They walked from my cousin’s house which was only about ten apartments down from the dope man’s apartment. The Lame Ass was living with my cousin, but that’s a whole other story that I may or may not tell. These geniuses climbed three flights of stairs to do a robbery with one real weapon and two of the dumbest weapons in the universe to do a robbery. My brother was holding the only assault weapon, and I don’t even think the damn thing had bullets. They got halfway up the stairs, and that cake mix ass dude broke running away from the job. Honestly, that’s one of the main reasons I believe this shit was a setup from the beginning. How you gonna run and it was yo nigga that provided the info? Anyway, my brother and his best friend continued as planned. They got to the third floor, and my brother kicked in the door. Mind you, it took three kicks to get in the apartment. Yes, my dude, three kicks, which means if the first one didn’t wake up everyone in the house, surely, that second and third one did. There was no one announcing police, so kick three definitely had the whole house locked and loaded. They were in and my brother grabbed the dope man’s little sister who was sitting on the couch in shock. He’s yelling at her to take him to the stash. He grabbed her and started dragging her toward the back hall closet where he was told the safe was. Meanwhile, Best Friend had sprayed the cousin that had jumped up from the floor. He kicked him back to the floor and yelled at him to stay down. He’s blinded and screaming. Brother had his arm around the girl’s neck and the gun to her temple dragging her down the hall with his back to the master bedroom. Dope man, not on vacation, was aiming his piece through the crack of the door as my brother violently dragged his sister closer to the hall closet. Pow! Just like that, it’s over. My brother went down. One shot to the back of the head and my brother was another victim of the streets.
Best Friend ran but