…four years later Jeff will lose his virginity to a girl behind the East High School football field then later that night his keys and pants in the school pool so that he has to run
home crying to his mother with an oversized shirt and no pants, like a cartoon bear, and the next day when I hear this story, I will think about what it means for someone to become naked two times in one night to rush into the warmth of two
women, once becoming a man and once becoming a boy all over again but right now it is just us in this car with Jeff’s mother, that cigarette smoke dancing from her lips until it catches the breeze
from the cracked front window and glides back towards us a vagabond, searching for a throat to move into and cripple while Neal Schon’s guitar rides out the speakers and I don’t know how many open windows a man has to climb out of in the middle of the night in order to have hands that can make anything scream like that.
nothing knows the sound of abandonment like a highway does, not even God."
- Hanif Abdurraqib, “When We Were 13, Jeff’s Father Left The Needle Down On A Journey Record Before Leaving The House One Morning And Never Coming Back” (via joshuabrandonbennett)
To the girl in high school
who said my dark skin and stick legs
would never amount to anything -
thank you for the bullying.
It taught me beauty and confidence.
To the parent
who never failed to let me know
they made a huge mistake -
thank you for my depression.
It drew me to the arts.
To the boy I loved so great
and broke my heart -
thank you for the heartbreak.
It gave me my voice, the ink for my inspiration.
To the ex best friends who traded friendship for success
and stabbed me in the back with stilettos;
to the boys who had no intention in learning my name;
to the teachers who never looked twice at me
for lack of social popularity;
to the in crowd and queen bees who made me think
I was an outcast that needed your approval -
thank you for the cold shoulder,
for making me feel like I was nothing.
It pushed me to prove myself,
It drove me to make sure I’d never be less.
For after all has been said and done,
you will all be dead and forgotten.
And my bones, too, will decay
with the worms underneath the ground.
But my words, they will live on.
There are galaxies bursting inside me,
inside this empty chest.
And they are all screaming -
I exist. I exist. I EXIST.
Oil paintings by Mariella Angela who’s known for her stylized brushworks - has made a name for herself painting some of contemporary hip-hop’s favorite icons. Check out here instagram for more
Oh my GOSH I love these so much it isn’t even real. Damn. Respect.