The unfortunate thing about second chances is first you have to be lucky enough to get them. And those aren’t promised to everyone.
I grew up in a place where people didn’t usually grow up at all. In a tiny house on the edge of two cities that smelled like garbage, blunts, and violence.
My two brother’s were my parents pride and joys. They never got into trouble and always listened. But that was something I could hardly relate to. For me, in order to learn, it had to be the hard way. So for years I would be the one that always got into trouble. The one the town always talked about. The one that wouldn’t make it.
But they were wrong. It was actually my parents pride and joys that didn’t make it. And again fate allowed me a second chance that I didn’t deserve.
My brothers and I knew our city like the back of our hands. And we knew that we lived in the most dangerous place in the world. And anything, at any moment, could have catastrophic results.
It was a Friday night. My dad just got a promotion at his job and my mom wanted to make him something extra special. So she sent me off to the grocery store to grab the ingredients. It was a quick 10 minute walk away. The legendary grocery store that everyone said had the best prices in the state. However, what they failed to mention is that was only because everything sold there was already expired. And the dates changed.
As I headed out the house I heard my two brothers calling after me. “What?” I asked looking up at them.
“We’re coming with!” James said as he threw his large arm over my shoulders. Weighing me down.
He was the eldest. And if anyone in these slums were meant to make it, it was him. And everyone knew he would. A kind, but massive man that would soon no doubt play in the NFL. He was already being watched at that time. They called him the humble giant. The young man that spent half his time knocking peoples heads off on the field. And half his time making the world around him a better place.
“Get off me.” I pushed his arm off. “Don’t ya’ll have something better to do?”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Chester, my twin brother, sang. Another one everyone believed would make it. At only 14 years old he won an award for being the highest streamed artist on some platform I forgot the name of. “Where you go, we go.”
“Whatever,” I said walking away. On the outside displaying I didn’t care. On the inside feeling blessed that I had brothers that would always be there for me.
At least that’s what I believed. And hoped.
But while I was in that grocery store they waited outside. And someone that I got into with not too long ago was still out looking for me. And as I walked out the store I saw it happen. I saw both their lives taken. And it was supposed to be mine.
The car screeched off and I ran to my brothers. Pulling their bloodstained bodies close to mine. And crying. Crying until the cops eventually arrived and pulled me off of them.
Second chances...
Something I felt I always got even though I was never deserving of them. And not once was I thankful. Or have ever apologized for my mistakes.
I remember the look on my parents faces when I walked into the house covered in blood. When I walked into that house alone. Especially my moms. Because in that moment I could tell my mom thought with everything in her that I killed my own brothers.
What kind of monster did she think I was? How could she believe I would ever do something like that?
But I chose to ignore that horrible face. And I told her what really happened. And all three of us broke down together. And afterwards, each day, went on like nothing ever happened. Never mentioning what occurred. Never saying their names. Never allowing ourselves to heal. Instead we ran from reality. And eventually adjusted to life the best we could.
And the person I once was died with my brothers.
Second chances...
I could’ve died that day. I should’ve died that day. But I didn’t. Instead the concept of second chances blessed me with the opportunity to change my life. And use it to become someone that could feel proud when they looked into the mirror. Someone that wanted to do what my brothers did. And contribute to a better world for everyone.
And everyday I focused on becoming a better person than I was the day before. But I also vowed to never use my heart again. Because I couldn’t bear the pain of lost. And I was fragile. So to avoid shattering into billions of pieces I avoided anything that would touch my heart. But I was always afraid that one day something would.
And for years it worked. I managed to grow into the young man I am now. With a strong faith and desire to contribute to a better world. And not once did I have to love anything or anyone else other than myself and my own dreams.
And out of nowhere she appeared.
A beautiful girl with eyes that lured me in. An energy that managed to comfort me. And a soul that I knew was created just for me.
And that terrified me. Because if I liked her, there was a chance I would love her. And if I loved her, there was a chance I would fall in love with her. And I could no longer ignore the feelings I’ve managed to forget. The traumas I’ve endured.
But I couldn’t resist. There was an undeniable energy that pulled us together. And though I was afraid I allowed it to happen. I secretly wanted it to happen. And eventually we started to date. And I was forced to allow myself to be vulnerable.
But it was hard. Because every night I would hold her with everything in my heart. I would have to face nightmares of me holding the lifeless bodies of both my brothers…with everything in my heart. Because for me, the only love granted, was the only love lost.
However, I refused to run away. Instead I chose to fight through my issues in silence. Because in my heart, my unused heart, I realized I would be a fool to self-sabotage this. And day by day it got easier. Day by day things started to fall exactly where they needed to. And unexpectedly, I somehow still managed to self-sabotage.
Second chances…
You have to be lucky enough to get them. And for most of my life I undeservingly got them, one after the other. And now as I sit here in an apartment too big for one person, it all feels so empty. Because the only thing I want to do now is fix things. For the first time in my life I didn’t want a second chance. I needed it.
But what if it’s too late for sorry?
Do I respect the boundaries of space and allow it to cause us to drift apart? So quietly that we never even see it happening? Or do I fight. Like I was used to doing all my life. Except this time, for the only thing I ever wanted.
But to be honest, I feel like there’s only one true option. Because how does one even give someone they love space when they know there are so many other people fighting for that attention. People that will try, but will still fall short of loving them like you did. Like you do.
In my 40 years on this Earth I’ve only had two regrets. The first one is causing my parents so much grief and ultimately being the cause of my siblings deaths.
And two. Failing at love.
But in my heart I don’t think it’s too late for sorry.
Instead. It’s time for growth.
