"We were born and raised down here. A similar pain brought us together and we really gotta hell of a friendship. Basically, being misunderstood, we understand each other. It’s not a relationship but we’re starting with the foundation. Like iron sharpens irons, as too, a friend sharpens a friend. It’s pure respect and buildup. I’d be sucka if I was trying to get with her and she ain’t at her fullest and I’m not at my fullest, ya dig? We’re just trying to build and it’s a beautiful friendship. 

We gotta body that can’t digest drugs and a mind that can’t digest life, so we're thoroughly misunderstood because we self medicate. Family looks at it like we’re doing drugs and so we’re both outcasts. I feel like I’m supposed to be a blessing to my family and not a burden. The devil, like the lawyer he his, knows scripture and accuses us like a lawyer. So, like it’s a third party voice, my dad’s wife, who is propaganda. However, propaganda is like hocus locus, right? However, my self medication makes my propaganda look true, ya dig? Those real close ties start to fade and we seek comfort anyway we can, in each other. People don’t like drugs, it’s just a release. Alcohol isn’t nothing but a drink. It’s about thinking. Take the drugs and drink away and we’re still broken. This shit goes back to my childhood. It’s deeply engraved. 

With me, it started when my parents broke up. I came from a broken-home the devil divided it. I was ten years old. I took my first drink at ten. I told my brother to give me a beer and he said, “If you kill it, I won’t tell moms. If you don’t kill it, I’ll tell her.” So, I killed it and boom, I had arrived. I felt like I needed to feel. I didn’t miss mom no more. I didn’t miss dad no more. I felt like a ladies’ man. I knew at ten years old that I could change my reality with no harm meant. I always sought God, though. I knew that when people failed me, God didn’t. However, my flesh was never satisfied. I developed mentally and physically but didn’t develop emotionally. Emotionally, I’m like an adolescent. That’s not easy to admit but you know.

My daddy’s wife mounted me two nights in a row, when I was fifteen. I laid there frozen and mortified. I didn’t know if I had sex with an older chick or if I was getting molested. What the fuck was it? The role I played in that was that I held that shit in for twenty-something years. I got real sick in my spirit. I was numb. I stayed away from my family and they thought it was just drugs and shit.

I went to treatment and they want you to be honest about everything, so I told my dad what happened, while his wife was there. She came across the room and clawed me in my face and never said sorry. My dad told me that I should’ve took that shit to grave. That’s some real sick shit. Now, I know why these girls don’t tell people.

So, a week after that, I’m a single daddy. At the time, I had my three year old little boy and my two year old little girl, by myself. Their mama was gone on ice. My daddy’s wife called CPS and had my kids taken away. Now, I have nothing, I’m stripped, I’m bare. Human contact is critical. I had no one and when you don’t have that, it fucks with your psyche. I went to do nine months of treatment. I was only supposed to do thirty days but I did nine months. CPS was ready to close, my lawyer ready to close, and my baby mama never showed up to court. I didn’t take one drug test, I took a trillion. My baby mama’s public defender stood up and said that he don’t feel comfortable giving me the kids when she wasn’t present. She ain’t present? She’s never been present. I should’ve had my kids, that day, bruh! Mind you, I have a body that doesn’t properly digest drugs; I react abnormally. I have a mind that can’t digest life. So, when that happened, the best thing I could do was numb it. By numbing that pain, it made her look right. I’m misunderstood to the fullest. It’s a cruel and unusual punishment. I don’t want no pity or nothing, it’s just hard. 

My outlook on life is that God is everything. God is gonna turn this around. The work he started in me, he’s going to finish in me. It don’t matter what it looks like. I was left in the street, in that park, when I was ten. I’m a product of this neighborhood. I’m just trying to work on myself, ya dig? All my faith comes from God. Any of my wisdom comes from pain and experience. If somebody gets something from it, I’m praising God. I’m only something when I allow him to work in me and when I get out of the way. 

There’s two roads in front of you: life and death. Choose life. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Take it easy, man. Stay out of your own way and have some humility. Humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less. When you aren't thinking about you, you’re helping someone else and God’s working on you. See, I suffer from self and self can’t fix self. I’m real sick and I need help. I’m just working on it.” - Bub Sosa, pictured with Juju in Portland