I Wonder, an essay by Kenneth R. Martin
When I was four years old, if my parents weren’t addicted to drugs would I have made the decisions that I made? I remember the vision as if it was yesterday. Witnessing my parents in their addiction leaving my brother and I and sister unsupervised.
I took the opportunity, as any four-year-old would do and explored the world outside of the confines of our home, if one can call it a home. My explorations led me to watching the local street gang to which I would inevitably become a part.
I would watch these gang members and would want so much to be a part of them. So years later I manifested my thoughts into a reality, six years later to be exact. I was a member of a gang at a very early age. I hung out at ten, and was jumped in at eleven. After witnessing my father beat my mother for so many years, I finally had a place to retreat to that wasn’t going to beat me because my mother didn’t have the money to feed the drug habit of my own father. I had a place to retreat to where I would not have any restrictions; I was lawless, hopeless, and inconsiderate of the rest of humanity.
As I look at the little boy, I recognize that there was a whole lot of anger, fear, and resentments that he was faced with. And who, at that age would understand the emotions, feelings, and vulnerabilities? Not me, things were scrambled in my head like a two-thousand piece puzzle, difficult to put together.Time consuming, and one would require patience beyond what I had back then.
Five years later to six years later, that same little boy who was misguided committed the most horrible act that can be committed against another (murder 2nd). I was the same four-year-old, scared, intimidated little boy that didn’t know how to talk about what he was feeling let alone identify those feelings and emotions. So they were kept bottled up and eventually they exploded. I was 16 years old. Scared to death in a world that was cold and unforgiving. I had not the slightest idea what I was to embark on for the next twenty-four years.
So here I am sitting in writing group, free as a person can aspire to be. I have nothing to complain about.
When I was four years old, if my parents weren’t addicted to drugs would I have made the decisions that I made? I remember the vision as if it was yesterday. Witnessing my parents in their addiction leaving my brother and I and sister unsupervised.
I took the opportunity, as any four-year-old would do and explored the world outside of the confines of our home, if one can call it a home. My explorations led me to watching the local street gang to which I would inevitably become a part.
I would watch these gang members and would want so much to be a part of them. So years later I manifested my thoughts into a reality, six years later to be exact. I was a member of a gang at a very early age. I hung out at ten, and was jumped in at eleven. After witnessing my father beat my mother for so many years, I finally had a place to retreat to that wasn’t going to beat me because my mother didn’t have the money to feed the drug habit of my own father. I had a place to retreat to where I would not have any restrictions; I was lawless, hopeless, and inconsiderate of the rest of humanity.
As I look at the little boy, I recognize that there was a whole lot of anger, fear, and resentments that he was faced with. And who, at that age would understand the emotions, feelings, and vulnerabilities? Not me, things were scrambled in my head like a two-thousand piece puzzle, difficult to put together.Time consuming, and one would require patience beyond what I had back then.
Five years later to six years later, that same little boy who was misguided committed the most horrible act that can be committed against another (murder 2nd). I was the same four-year-old, scared, intimidated little boy that didn’t know how to talk about what he was feeling let alone identify those feelings and emotions. So they were kept bottled up and eventually they exploded. I was 16 years old. Scared to death in a world that was cold and unforgiving. I had not the slightest idea what I was to embark on for the next twenty-four years.
So here I am sitting in writing group, free as a person can aspire to be. I have nothing to complain about.