I don’t usually do this but I feel that I’ve hit a place where I really need to vent out what I’ve had on my mind since a really long time. Why do people lie? To cover their asses? To make sure that the world doesn’t get to know what kind of a heinous monster they really are? Or is it something so fundamentally human, that no person can escape it? I’ve said my fair share of lies to people. A bit too many, actually. I’ve lost track of what I’ve said to whom. But the biggest mistake is saying that first lie. That first lie, which leads to the second, then to the third and before you know it you’re neck-deep in a pool full of lies. I just lost the person who mattered the most to me because of this habit of lying. We were supposed to complete 8 months on the 15th of July, but now, she can’t even stand the sight of me. Which is justified. She took my shit for almost 8 months, stood by me when I had no one and then some, and I fucking kept on lying to her. It’s not until you lose someone that you realize the cost of losing them. I probably just fucked up the best thing that ever fucking happened to me. I deserve it, yes. But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe, if I stay the fuck away, she’ll finally be happy. She’ll know what happiness means, and she won’t have to put up with a lying cheat to get to know that either. She’ll be happy. Even if that comes at the cost of my sanity. Because that’s all I want, really. Her happiness. Nothing else would make me happier than her happiness. But then, how am I gonna be okay? I love her, and I’m gonna change myself. But it isn’t gonna be for her. I’m gonna change for myself. I’m gonna become a better person. Maybe she’ll come back, maybe she won’t. Only time will tell. I really hope she does. This? This is gonna be my first step towards redemption. After all, it’s better to go down with a fight, right?
A beach. A pet wolf. A cottage. Sunlight. Warmth. The man laughed at these thoughts now. He laughed at his naivety. How could he have been so blind before? He woke up from his deep slumber and opened his eyes to the monstrosity of the light. You see, the thing about the light is that it isn’t permanent. It flickers. It goes off. Sometimes, you don’t find it for years on end. And when you do, it’s gone just as soon. But darkness. That is a constant.
The man was standing at the entrance to the maze again, which was mocking him for his foolishness.
“She tricked you, my child. The serenity was short-lived. Pain is how you have persevered and how you will till the end of your days. It’s the only way that anyone can maintain a stable mindset in this m.A.A.d city. Come back. Come back to your haven. Come back to your old self, the one that you so cherished.”
How could he have been so blind? The cold, fake, appealing nature of the light was what drew him out, not the sincerity of it. The maze was an old friend that wanted to put an end to his misery, that was all. The maze was the only constant which had truly stuck with him throughout his life.
But. He hesitated to go back to the maze.
Somehow, after all he had been through, after all the time that he had spent with the light, after all the times that he had indeed made mistakes and been ignorant enough to correct them, he didn’t want to go back to the maze. He wanted to redeem himself. He wanted one last shot at getting back that which was his. He wanted his serenity back, however fake it might have been. So he mustered his courage and tried to approach the light. But it was too late. She had given up on him. She couldn’t stand the sight of this pathetic creature. She abandoned him, and left him for naught.
Broken, of heart and in spirit, the man entered the maze without giving it a second thought. The darkness spoke to him with a kindness which he had long forgotten. It said, “Welcome home, my child. You’ve been away for far too long, chasing distant dreams. It’s time that you returned.”
Upon entering the maze, the man lost his footing and plunged into a deep abyss. He didn’t care anymore. He closed his eyes and thought about a poem he’d heard on the radio the other day, an eerie calmness spreading all over his face.
“I remembered you was conflicted,
Misusing your influence, sometimes I did the same;
Abusing my power, full of resentment.
Resentment that turned into a deep depression.
Found myself screamin’ in a hotel room,
I didn’t wanna self destruct, the evils of Lucy was all around me.
So I went runnin’ for answers.”
His lips curled into a smile. He was tired of running now. He’d come back home. And he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
He lay there, clutching his waist, crawling towards the watch tower. “Just another yard”, he said to himself. The nigga had been shot through his stomach four times. His homies had abandoned him. The enemy had won the war. His hood wasn’t his anymore. All his hood rats were either dead or had turned over to the enemy. He was the last one of his clan. The essence of life was draining out of him. He gave up trying to crawl to safety. He lay on the streets, unable to move another inch of his body. Eventually, he passed out. His mind drifted into flashback.
His life as a gangster started out with hustling. He started out as a small time pusher, selling Mary to white them kids up in the Projects. With time, he made a name for himself and moved on from selling small amounts of Mary to hustling kilos of all kinds of dope. Cocaine, heroin, LSD; you name it, he got it. The little nappy-headed nigga from the trailer park was on a rise. He blew from a small-time dope dealer to the go-to man for dope in his entire city. But then he got busted. He lost all dope. He lost his money. He was broke. Broke, and envious. Envious, of those gangsters who went about bribing cops like a parent would pay his child’s fees. Because hustling was a risky profession. But gang-banging? That’s the ultimate dream of a nigga. During his incarceration, he made an intricate plot to win back his former glory and extend it to new heights.
After getting out, he went back to hustling but this time, he kept his focus on the underbelly of his fair town. He kept his ears to the streets and found out its vulnerable spots. With time, he extended his influence to those gangbangers and those hood rats. He took those lost souls under his wing and gave their lives a new purpose.
They prospered under his leadership. The police didn’t dare cross them, their business was booming, money was raining down on them from the heavens. Indeed, his life was that of a true Thug. But then came his downfall, the betrayal.
He discovered that there was an occult group within his organization. The aim of this group was to overthrow him and take over the city. He was in a state of utter disbelief when he found out that the leader of this group none other than his most trusted homie. His protege. He confronted this occult group and drove them out of his town.
But they returned. They came back, with stronger allies from the south. Then came a time of utter catastrophe, of rage and destruction, of War. They went all out. Each side brought out the big guns. The entire city was rioting. The police lost control. His entire world was consumed in Drugs and War.
But he didn’t give up. He fought till his last clip was empty. He fought till his loyalists stood by him. Now, he was broken. He had been defeated. As he lay there, he heard a transistor come to life. He recollected hearing the words in some interview he was watching the other day. Lying there, he gave up all hopes of surviving. He just closed his eyes and listened to the words, for they best described his world:
“The Caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets. Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it, in order to protect itself from this m.A.A.d city. While consuming its environment, the Caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive. One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the Butterfly. The Butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness and the beauty within the Caterpillar. But having a harsh outlook on life, the Caterpillar sees the Butterfly as weak and figures out a way to Pimp it to his own benefits. Already surrounded by this m.A.A.d city, the Caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes him. He can no longer see past his thoughts. He’s trapped. When trapped inside these walls, certain ideas start taking root such as going home and bringing back new concepts to this m.A.A.d city. The result? Wings being to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant. Finally free, the Butterfly sheds light on situations that the Caterpillar never considered, ending the eternal struggle. Although the Butterfly and Caterpillar are completely different, they are one and the same.”