Beautiful Darkness by Maurice Mitchell (easy books to read in english TXT) 📕

the kids were scared of him, I wasn’t, I felt like I was from New York, I’d seen tougher. He put his stick on the table and told me he was done playing, our game was finished. He then basically told me to kick rocks and find another game, I told him to kiss my as*. I remember kids started surrounding the table preparing to watch what they probably thought would be my last moments on earth. Before I knew it the pool table was surrounded with spectators and I was once again the center of the attention. I remember him walking towards me in a moment that seemed to have been forever, I help my pool stick tighter and waited. He walked over and tried to take the pool stick out of my hand, so I fought for it, turns out he was stronger, a lot stronger, he won. I didn’t care though, I punched him in his side and kept trying to get the stick back, until he pulled it so hard I flung across the floor. I flew in the air and landed conveniently on my chin boom! I bust it wide open, I turned over and grabbed my chin and it felt like I stuck my hand in a sink full of water. Blood raced from chin faster then I could catch it. I snapped, I picked the pool stick up that was lying on the table and tried to take his head off with it. I missed, and was constrained by the counselors before I could sink my teeth in the revenge I ached for. Instead or revenge, I left with a busted chin, a bloody shirt, and a memory that would haunt me. I had to get stitches and was suspended from camp for a week. That probably wasn’t the best impression to leave my first year there.

Chapter Five (Meaning)

At this point in my life I struggled to find meaning in anything. The fight at camp pist me off for several reasons. For one I felt like I was targeted and it didn’t matter. I knew in my heart that I’d done nothing wrong, however I ended with the busted chin and the suspension. Victor and his boys got a slap on the wrist and a talk from the counselor. My mother always told me that life wasn’t fair, I then knew that more then ever. I never wanted to go back to that camp, but of course I was forced too, and once again I had to face everyone after what happened. Revenge wasn’t really an option for me, I had one strike left. I was already in trouble at home and Victor was a lot older, stronger, and deeper then me. I had to eat it, and I never forgot. From that day on I was a target at camp, it made me hate everyday I had to be there. My stomach would turn as soon as I pulled up to the building every morning but I knew I had to stick it out. Learning at such a young age that sometimes I had to deal with things that I didn’t necessarily like helped guide me through a lot of situations in life. However, I still couldn’t understand why nobody could see my point of view, why did I feel so isolated and so misunderstood. All I did was stand up for myself and do what I felt everybody else was scared too, why did that make me wrong? That was a lesson I was forced to learn the hard way. When choosing to go against the grain or create waves as some people say, you have to accept that it makes life that much harder. I didn’t truly understand that concept yet, but I would real soon. I just couldn’t find meaning in being regular, or average, and I still cant. I could never understand why someone would want to be normal or just blend in. I never wanted to follow the rules, or do what was expected of me, I always saw that to be failing. For me it was always go harder, or go home. That mentality got me into about as much trouble as it did anything else, but somehow in the end it always seems to be worth it. Somebody once told me that “You live a very different and unique life, and because of that your very different, but at what cost?” I couldn’t really answer that question, I felt only success could show itself as the obvious answer. I felt as if I was always struggling to find meaning in things most people don’t even notice. I’ve always been very analytical, to the point where I am not able to enjoy most of the things average people do. It’s definitely a gift and a curse, if you ask me I would say it’s more of a curse. With the amount death I’d been around thus far, I couldn’t understand how people could be so fake. How they could be so unreliable and never be there for other people. I learned early that life was precious and everything you have can be taken from you in an instant, and I would give anything to have one more night with Nana. Yet, most people walk around as if tomorrow is promised and they treat people as if they wouldn’t care if they were dead. Well sometime you have to prove that feeling, and unfortunately by that time its too late, that bothered me. I couldn’t find meaning in friendships, family, and sometimes life. Just couldn’t understand why people acted the way they did, and what motivated them to be who they were. Fifteen years later I still haven’t figured that out, but Ill keep you posted.

Chapter Six (The Hood After Father)

Throughout all of the flakey things I’ve dealt with up until this point, there was one thing that remained consistent. That was the relationship with my mother. I love my mother more then I love myself and I always have. We practically grew up together, and have always been best friends. She was always in my corner, that was something I could always count on, and it felt good. I wasn’t afraid of much, because I knew regardless of what came my way, she would back me. I got used to it just being my mom and I, maybe a little to used to it in fact. I definitely wasn’t prepared to let anyone infiltrate our little bubble, at least not without a fight. My mom didn’t bring too many men around me, and now that I’m older I understand why, I commend her for that. The few times I do remember meeting a guy, I remember immediately disliking them. I don’t really think anyone could of appeared to be good enough for my mother, I felt like I would hate them all. Until I met one. There was one guy who appeared to be different from the bunch, I didn’t know what it was then, but I definitely do now. This man came in and didn’t necessarily come in my life the same way the others did. His approach was different. He made an attempt to hang out with me, gave me more attention then I was used to, I enjoyed that. There was something special about him, and today I know that man as Pop. Today my Pop and I have the best relationship any father and son can have. I look up to him in every way, and I appreciate everything he’s done for me. I look at him as much more then a dad, I see him as a best friend, a brother, and a mentor. If I can be half the man he is, ill be happy with the way I turned out. We weren’t always two peas in a pod though, and times were nothing like they are now when we first met. The method he used when introducing himself to me appeared to be ingenious at first, and it was, but it quickly backfired.

See at first he would come around and hang with me, play madden or whatever else. I got used to that, so much in fact I believed he was my friend. The minute I found out I was wrong though, I became problem child number 5. I did whatever I could to try to prevent him from seeing my mother. Anything from brushing his toothbrush on the floor to hiding something that I knew he would need. I would be disrespectful on purpose and really make it hard for everybody. I didn’t necessarily have anything against him, just had a lot against him dating my mother. It drove our family crazy at first, there was a lot tension between the three of us. The situation led to me being upset with my mother because I felt like she was taking his side. I remember one time my mother hit me for saying that he wasn’t my father, and she kept yelling “say it again!” I’d say it “he aint my father, he ain’t my father!” Pow! Pow! Pow! She must of hit me about eight times during that exchange, that’s how stubborn I was. Another time I remember being so upset at something he did, I attempted to punch the wall, and missed and hit the window. I broke the entire glass window in the family room. Almost cut my hand off in the process. My mother was hot! I think I can still feel that whoopin, that was a bad one, in fact that may have been the first time they disciplined me at the same time. I never got used to that. In the end I was just being a kid, and didn’t understand that he made my mother happy. I thought it would be the two of us forever, but I'm glad I was wrong. It took years before I began to see things for what they were and began to appreciate my Pop. I learned tons of lessons on being a man and accepting responsibility by just watching him live. He was only about twenty-one when he came into our life and took on the challenge of loving my mother and raising me. I can really appreciate that today. Partially because I don’t think I could of done it myself, and I definitely didn’t make it easy for him. It was damn sure a bumpy road, but one that was well worth it in the end. Eventually we got past the rough start and he began the journey of bringing me into manhood.

Chapter 7 (Corruption)

I can still vividly remember the time when my Pop came around, once we got past that rough start, a lifetime of good came out of it. I learned how to ride a bike, how to talk to girls, and I got a little sister. That was a another memorable experience, I still remember exactly where I was when she was born. Playing in the backyard, I was as happy as I’d ever been and didn’t know why. I had no idea it was because I’d just experienced the birth of someone I would love more then myself. Unfortunately while things were going so well for me at home, I couldn’t say the same for my life outside. I call this chapter corruption, because this is the part in my life when I remember truly changing. I felt as if I was finally coming around and learning to like and trust people. That would quickly change. For some reason or another my sixth grade year was tough for me. My family and I moved once again, this time to East New York. The kids were different, they were tougher, and I had to adjust, so I did. I got into a lot of fights that