As I was standing at the back of the ferry contemplating ending my life and just jump into the frigid water as we near the NYC side, I thought about something that not only changed my mind, but made me think twice what I was about to do. I come to realized that no one was really going to miss me. Sure I may have some friends from the neighborhood that will and a couple of ex girlfriends, but nothing short of a joint would cure that and I would then become a faded memory and life would just go on for all who knew me.
Not only that, but after all the shit I went through growing up in the projects, the orphanage home and that abusive foster home that denied me of a decent childhood, and lets not forget the group home, I soon realized that I still had some fight in me left. I didn’t want to die, at least not that way. It just never occurred to me, but that very moment defined the person that I was about to become for the rest of my life.
We all have a little Rocky Balboa in us in a way. He was lucky to have Mick in his corner throughout all his fights to guide him to his ultimate goal of becoming a Heavy Weight Champion of the World. Even when the odds stacked against him to ever hold that title against a ruthless opponent as Apollo Creed, there was Mick at his corner never giving up on The Italian Stallion, and that night there was a new reigning champion crowned named Rocky Balboa.
I was always alone throughout all my fights growing up. There were no Mick like figures in my corner. All my battles were fought alone and this one wasn’t going to be any different. I had plans, and giving up on life wasn’t one of them. As the Staten Island ferry docked on the New York City side, the passengers all got off but I stayed on and took the next trip back to Staten Island.
I fought another fight and won on my own, and on top of that, I needed to figure out a way to get my ass back on the right path in life and play it smart from then on, because I had my childhood dream waiting for me to fulfill…and I didn’t hear no bell.