Beat by Musty - www.newgrounds.com
Busy with the EP, but I had to throw this one up.
I hate people that always want to pick a fight with their parents. It isn’t that I hate it, it’s more than I envy it. I can’t tell you how many times I WISH I could have those moments again , or any one like that. My parents weren’t the best people at times, but they were still my folks.
I think more than anything else in life, that stings the most for me. While people sit around, bitching or complaining that parents don’t provide for them, I’m left sitting at home, wondering if they are proud of where I’m at or not.
I can imagine my Dad, critiquing my every decision, asking me why I think I felt my each decision was logical. I would try to compare my life experiences to his, and he would brush me aside. My Dad was the most intelligent man I knew, but also the biggest idiot. He never wanted to take on more responsibility, he always wanted to be better than mediocre - not the best. Regardless, he pushed me to be my best. So when I’m an asshole, or I’m doing work with mad confidence, or I refuse to accept things for the way they are - that’s my Dad.
My Mom would ask me how my heart feels about a situation. Just as your heart can lead you in a blessed direction, it can tear lives apart. Wearing your heart on your sleeve can leave you stubborn as well. That’s why she took my brother and left when I was 15 - that’s how I learned to survive with nothing but change in my pocket, and determination. I stay up at night lately wondering if that was her goal all along - not to leave me in the cold to starve - but rather to show me that if I want to be successful, I have to prove myself that I can do it. When you see me at my low point, when you see the blatant disregard for others feelings or frustrations, or you see me go out of my way to help a friend in need - that’s my Mom.
I’ve hit a stage in my life where I simply miss my family. Just like with any negative event, resentment can only last for so long - the energy spent telling yourself that your family doesn’t care or that they hate you depletes you as a person. It makes you pessimistic, and it leaves you with too many battle scars. At one point, you have to understand - they are your family. You only have one, and unfortunately, I don’t have that anymore.
This song was a culmination of ramblings and thoughts, into a hastily made track. I made one for my Dad, and I’ve left it private. Some things are better that way. He would understand.
For my Mom, if she were to be in front of me today, I would probably try to set things straight. Show her all the things I did that she said would always make her proud. Tell her about school, tell her about girls (she slowly embraced my yellow fever), tell her that my Bulls are killing it, and that I need the old VHS tapes I used to record the second three-peat for nostalgia. I would tell her that I still regret buying her cigarettes when I knew I was pretty much killing her, and it did.
In the end, we all just have to move on.
My mom would be 59 in April - even though she didn’t like the music I listened to (Wu-Tang, 2Pac, Eminem, Dre, Busta) - I hope she would like this.