Cold World

Wasup wasup, they call me...drake! but my homies call me d. living in washington heights my whole life. This is a blog that will express my inner feelings. don't think of me as being a softy, i' the exact oppposite. I' been through some shit, and I'm here to tell my story. 1 love

Misconception

At the age of 14 I started my 1st year in Washington Heights High. The only person I knew was my boy Brian, I thought it would be hell but it seemed like people really respected Brian, and they saw that I was always around him so they never looked at me wrong. Well except for Rodrigo. He was apart of what they then called “The Vipers,” a gang of kids that did nothing else but torture the lives of most kids. He was kept everyone in check and the gang listened to every word he said. One day he came up to me and said “You think that I’m scared of you and your boy, this is my turf home boy.” He then pushed me face first against the lockers, there was blood dripping out of my nose. I looked around to see if Brian was anywhere but he wasn’t. I was overwhelmed with anger and out of nowhere I just swung at Rodrigo with everything I had. No one saw it coming. I hit him straight in the face and he fell to the floor. His body laid still on the floor, and I felt hundreds of eyes staring at me. The murmurs in the room grew louder and next thing you know the rest of the vipers show up. They look at me and don’t know what to do. One of them came up to me, and I wasn’t sure what his intentions were or if thy were going to jump me, but then his hand reached out to mine. He said, “welcome to the crew.” From the corner of my eye I see someone running up to me. It was Brian and he looked at Rodrigo in confusion and pointed at me and smiled. I smirked and told the vipers, “I aint finna get into no gang without my bro by my side.” They weren’t up to argue so they nodded their heads and obeyed my request. I was the head chief now, everyone saw me as Drake, not Brian’s friend. I became a new person that day and it lead me to becoming the man I am today. †

Childhood Suffering

The only thing I knew about my parents was that my mother did a whole bunch of crack and my father shot up. It wasn’t even my grandmother who told me about this, the annoying shitty next door neighbor told me when I was 7 years old walking out of the apartment building. He obviously told me this just to get me upset. I remember running to my grandmother crying and asking her if it was true. Was I really a crack baby? I was so upset, I packed up my small back bag and left the house. Why? Idk why, I just did. What was running away going to do for me? I felt empty inside. I didn’t leave too far, I went down the street where all my boys chilled. I went to my best friend Brian’s house, I never told him what happened right away but he knew something went down. He said to me “yo who’s messing with you?” I told him what was up and we walked over to the neighbors house. The old man was still outside with a grin on his face. Brian picked up a rock and yelled “Screw you”, then threw it at his window. I felt comfort. We ran and ran until we got to his house. We waited an waited but of course we weren’t surprised the police didn’t come around. They never showed up when anyone really needed it. Eventually my grandmother found me at Brian’s house later on that day. She hugged me and told me that everything was going to be okay, I said to myself “If they could completely forget about me then I could do the same.” †