Don't think I don't know that we've all sprinted to the mirror to check the pudgy places or the spots where our hair is running from our foreheads. There's something about this forced kind of reflection that trips me out. My high school career wasn't all that bad really. Nor was I ever the last kid picked for dodgeball. Aside from being the only black guy in a conservative town (Sheriff Joe lives there), I made a lot of good friends.
What kills is having to explain this life to the people I had nothing in common with then. What the hell am I supposed to say now? How do I explain the drama behind putting four albums together, touring the country, and marketing myself on my own dollar? All of these guys are getting married, finishing grad school, having kids, and contributing to society in amazing ways. I can only see as far as my next 16 bars.
Now don't get me wrong - this trade off has also given me some of the best moments of my life. I've achieved things that most dream about. But it doesn't keep my bank account warm at night.
Maybe I'm reading way too much in to the situation. However, the ten-year-mark provides many opportunities to delve into the past. So I suppose I should do what I always do. Fuck it, let's party!!! Fountain Hills High, here I come! Lap it up, bitches!!!
