I think about you all the time. I don't ever think of you as my best friend. I mean we are not friends. But at one point in my life you were my only friend.
You stole from me. In Oakland and Atlanta. And Atlanta was the worst because I gave you a place to stay.
Do you remember when I told you I was going to Atlanta and you told me I was stupid and I would be back? And then there you are staying with me. In Atlanta.
You broke into my house more than once you stole my gun and then when I noticed it missing you teased me; "did you go to get it trying to impress some girl?"
I totally was. And that's what I hated about you most. You knew me.
Remember the boxing? Man, I swear we boxed like every day for like a year.
I will never forget the first day you came home with those boxing gloves. "You're too weak for the street, Sef" you announced and you put on gloves. I laced you up and as soon as I was done you punched me. That moment taught me everything I ever needed to know about you. And yet, I stayed your friend.
I remember when you made me fight Archie. That was the only time in my life I have ever been knocked out. There is no experience like that of the knees buckling and being forced by your own body to lie down when you have no desire to do so.
I am glad you are gone. I don't inquire about you. I haven't stalked you on FB or Google searched your name. I have no desire to ever know you again.
I forgive you. I am no longer angry. I attribute my toughness to you. And I can't tell the almost killed on a scooter story nor the crack and the shotgun story without mention of you.
I hope you are somewhere living your best life doing the good things.