A Journey Into the Unknown (Book Excerpt)
the things I believed mattered to any one. It seemed no one ever even bothered to think about life or what they were doing on earth not to talk of the supernatural. Every one only bothered about tomorrow or today even, I was miles away, bothering about how I could make my adult hood as fulfilling and prosperous as possible.
As a kid, I was afraid to be like my pedigree, though they weren’t poor and they were even happy, they were caught up in that endless daily turmoil that I couldn’t see myself surviving or thriving in. I was afraid of struggling ‘forever’ so instead I started my own struggle and it turned out to be even worse than the one I had perceived. I had chosen to struggle in a cycle of death, a cycle whereby low lives struggle for years over and wind up either dead or in jail.
For some reason I thought it would be up to me to end the struggle whenever I chose like it was some game, a struggle which was in fact life, life in its pure form, all that I was lacking was the necessary humility and complacence and it would all be ok.
I failed to realise that life wasn’t supposed to be peaches and cream, that richer folks simply had bigger bills to pay and had to work even harder and after a while, I realised that some people didn’t even think as far as success, some people were fine with life the way it was, just living everyday as it came. Why was I different? And while a part of me thanked God for that difference, the other half wanted to be normal, wanted to wake up in the morning and go to work, on the bus or train, in the same old shoes and the same old suit, to the same old desk, but with friends to talk to and colleagues to hate and take out my bad days on and go to the pub with after work, trying to get at the same old girls and all that crap because at least everything would be more certain, there would be a pay check at the end of every month. What I had forgotten was that I wasn’t even successful at that normal life. I was always hindered by social incompetence and shyness on the job coupled with my childhood hatred for mankind that never seemed to go away. Who would ever buy life insurance from someone who wouldn’t look them straight in the eye or ever even crack a smile or make nice comments or at least a bit of sucking up or few complements on a nice ladies hair or dress and all that shit? Of course if I worked on my social incompetence long enough things would have gotten better but too bad I didn’t. Too bad I had perceived every thing getting worse the more I tried, it was like trying to mould cold metal, I was set in my ways. The more I tried, the more I failed and the more it hurt. Too bad I was too a sore looser, a sore looser too soft to take a beating even, but not for long. The only thing positive about my character was that I could spot all those qualities and flaws and admit them shamelessly. Normally, people would try and cover them up and try more at appearing to be the toughest than actually being the toughest but not me.
At this point in my life I was working out almost every day of the week. I hit gyms all across the country as I would be in different boroughs or towns every other day of the week. I didn’t belong anywhere but I would thrive anywhere.
After a while I had built a body of confidence but nothing changed on the inside. Few ‘alpha dogs’ could see that I was built soft and had done something about it but of course no one would know what. Most would usually think I had a concealed weapon of some sort or something and though most people were shallow thinking most of the time, they could never fail to admire as they watched the under dog striving, not just striving but thriving as well. But that was only what they perceived, just the way it seemed.
When I made money one would think I could never have dreamed of having, most of the time I would have dreamed of having much more, I would still continue as though nothing had happened. I would still do as those with nothing would do. Consequently, I would do more than was necessary half of the time. I would plan for the worst of the worst, things that may never even happen. I never had anyone to teach me or show me a way through the streets so I would analyse situations by viewing them from the extremes. I only knew three phases, top, middle and bottom. It was years before I realised where I was in the game I played, in my life, as it were. I had spent years at the bottom, now every moment was tending toward the bottom from the middle section but I was reaching for the top. It was an endless struggle, the one I intended to cut out.
Money wasn’t the root of evil anymore. ‘Big paper’ was the root of evil. During harder times when everything was slow or stood still, I would turn around and try to rekindle old flames that had been extinguished at earlier stages of the game, smaller moves that used to bring in funds back