Driving Slow

By 18 I'd known 5 homosapes who were murdered as a result of gang violence. Not to mention the RIDICULOUSLY high occurence of wife-beating to the point that women were being put in hospitals on Friday, getting flowers on Sunday and cooking dinner by Monday with their husbands.

My schools mates and I all probably suffer from PTSD to some extent. No-walking-around-with-a-s

crew-driver.

Then I went to college and things changed. I could fall asleep before 10 p.m., nights didn't always end in someone getting jumped, people hated me way less for being black, but folks still died.

Up to that point I'd come to terms with there being no such thing as someone being "too young". Dying is what we do, no one is safe from it. But I had yet to experience what it was like for someone to die of something they couldn't help.

I couldn't complain about a disease or a plane crash because sometimes those things just happen. But to hear of someone dying in a way that was not violent, and to feel a sense of relief because of it ... that reaction, in my heart, felt like something I can't describe as any thing other than fucked up.

I drive slow now 'cause it's habit. It's not a metaphor for how I approach life, although that's definitely a dope reason. My cruising speeds stemmed from two things:

1) I went for two years without a license so I was like EFF that. I ain't trying to get caught not being cautious. If you drive like an old lady, people assume you are.

2) I didn't have a cell phone for a while, and it was my belief that if something crazy happened between where I was and my destination, I would at least be able to finish that ride in peace.

The sentiment behind Number 2 is a big reason why I wouldn't answer my phone while driving before it became illegal. It's also why when people call twice within a short period of time I answer 'cause I'm scared to shit that something might have happened.

I Love you.