[email protected] Wilmington NC 28401 US (910)352-3643
|Posted on February 13, 2016 at 2:58 PM|
By: Marcus Lacewell
I can't believe this guy just shot me. I guess he thought I was someone else. I always knew I would die some day. I just thought it would happen when I was much older and not at twenty. I thought I was going to have more time, because I was a good guy. I was just raised in a bad place. I wonder where the good people of bad places go when they die? This is something I always wondered. Is it my fault that I grew up around all the wrong things? Is it my fault that I had to wrong things just to survive? Is it my fault that many of the things that I was taught was alright turned out to be wrong? I was always the good guy in my neighborhood.
Most people around me were drunks, drug addicts, thieves, murderers, or just did nothing with their lives, but I never fell into their traps. Most of the time I was the one who tried to talk them out of such things. I still hung out with them though, but that was nothing bad. I drunk every now and then, but I guess it was alright because my parents and all my friends' parents did it. In fact, just about everyone in my neighborhood did it. I was taught that it wasn't really wrong unless I let it take over my life, like mister Williams up the street. Even Jesus himself drunk a little wine. Well, that's what I heard on one of those bible channels once when the cable was out. I knew this was right because everybody I knew was taught the same thing.
I always worked for the things I got. Many people in my neighborhood sold drugs for a living. It seemed like a legitimate job. Besides, it brought in more money then the jobs my parents had. But like I said, I was a good guy, I didn't do things like that. I was always taught that if anyone, I mean anyone, disrespected me I better fight for my respect, and if I lost I had a beating waiting for me when I got home. I knew this had to be right because everybody I knew was taught the same thing. I use to take my mom to work in the car I brought from my friend. He sold drugs so he gave it to me real cheap, since he had a lot of money anyway. I didn't have a license, but I knew how to drive, and my mom had to get to work.
Getting robbed was a normal thing in my neighborhood, and sometimes people would get killed in the process. At parties people would get in fights and they normally ended in gun fire so I had a gun to protect myself with. I knew there was nothing wrong with that. I was just protecting myself. I was usually the one who tried to brake things up. Sometimes I even put my life on the line for my friends. That's just how I am. Besides, I'm a good guy.
I always give encouragement and advice to my friends so they will not make any major mistakes that will harm them. They expected this from me because they knew I was a good guy. I did just about every thing with them. I was always taught not to be scared of anything, even death, so it was normal for me to do things like standing up to someone with a gun, driving drunk, and other life threatening things. I knew this couldn't be wrong because everybody I knew did the same thing.
I always hated the people who called me a bad person. I knew I was a good guy. Besides, they didn't know me. They grew up in a whole different environment. I know they weren't taught the same things I was taught. They just knew me from what they saw. They didn't know me personally. I made good grades in school just like them. I worked just like them. I didn't do the bad things that the bad people in my neighborhood did. I'm a good guy. Everyone outside of my neighborhood looks at me as a bad guy. The police says I'm bad, but I'm not. If it wasn't for me a lot of people could be dead, robbed, or even hurt, but I talked many people out of causing such harm. Why did people look at me this way. I did what I was suppose to do. I did what I had to do to survive. They didn't have to go through what I went through everyday. I never left my neighborhood because they said I was a bad guy, and they continued to keep me from success. They wouldn't even let me get a good job. So I guess all I had was my neighborhood, and there I knew I was still good. But now I guess it doesn't matter. My time is up. I wonder what God thinks. I wonder how I will be judged. Will He see me as a good guy or a bad one. I wish that I could come back and tell my friends after I find out. If I was a bad guy the whole time what was the point of being good.