A Year Later. It feels like yesterday.

A year can sometimes seem like a lifetime, yet a year ago and what seems like yesterday tragedy struck my city and took them by surprise. It was the death of four guys on the right path, four Guys who touched our whole city (we had no idea until their deaths), and four Guys whose life's were an example to all how to live and love while doing it.  It was an unimaginable tragedy, one I can still see when I close my eyes, I can hear the news report still if I listen, and I still see my my city suffering quietly behind. 

Two of the guys I knew very well, the other two through other friends, but it all felt the same.  Wether you knew one, two, three, or all four it WAS THE SAME.  Reality was, that our smart friends drove on interstate 64 at what witnesses still say was one hundred miles an hour. This causing one to lose control, what happened next only they know, and we won't ever. 

What happened next was; four wakes, four funerals , four families with lost of hope in their eyes. What was next was four sets of parents forced to grieve while making their son an example for their friends. So, on the anniversary of losing the fantastic four, it's okay to; cry, laugh, and even be angry. But, we must never forget the impact their young lives left on our city, the tears dropped, the memories that made us laugh, and most importantly... The lesson. 

The lesson from Swerv, "Cherish Everyday." The lesson from Clarence, " Even when things get tough, laugh."  The lesson from T.Cherry, " Love comes in all sizes." The lesson from Jarell, " Swagged out, but still smart." The lesson from all four; " Treat everyone as a sister or brother, embrace life and all it has to offer. Love and laugh, and party too, but always cherish every single day and live for something. 

God took four guys that had a heavy influence on everyone to teach us all a lesson, that no matter who or what life is short and anyone can go. Have you learned anything?

It's tatted on my back, because these are the types of angels you want watching over you. R.I.P FANTASTIC FOUR ❤

They say, “God will let you live your life however you choose. Yet, when you change your life, accept God, and do better God steps in and takes you away, because you have done your job.” The same can be said about Whitney Houston and her tragic death at 48 years old. As the world is just now adjusting to life without the King of Pop, we now have to deal with the lost of what some refer to as; the Queen of Pop. As of today fans don’t know exactly what took Houston from us and her family, but we do know whatever it is, it hurts and as hard as it is to accept, she is finally getting to rest.

Some will argue she had enough rest after taking her vacation from music, but the reality is Houston was under major pressure to be like the old Whitney, to give fans what they wanted, and to leave a legacy of positivity and not so much negativity surrounding her life. And while there will be a cause of death, we know the true cause, was the pressure to prove she still had it. Regardless the only way to honor Whitney Houston is to understand what she did for music. Whitney was born August 9, 1963 in Newark, New Jersey surrounded by a holy filled life and became a wonderful gospel singer at her church.

In 1981 she became the first black girl to be featured on the cover of Seventeen Magazine. She debut her first album at the age of 22 with three number one singles, and in 1987 she added four more singles to number and received her first Grammy award. Houston is in the Genesis Book of World Records; having won the most awards of any women ever. She married Bobby Brown in 1999 and her career took a huge turn; involving drugs and alcohol later becoming an addiction.

Houston often explained, “She loved life and wanted to live.” So one can only be devastated by such a lost to the world. You can speak on Houston’s life and speak on the negative, but wasn’t that ultimately what killed her? She wanted to live up to the hype, she wanted fans to believe in her again, she wanted to kick her drug habit, but most of all she wanted to prove; THAT IT WASN’T OVER AND SHE COULD DO IT. SHE COULD MAKE HER COMEBACK. God had another plan; he got tired of watching Whitney struggle, and took her away. He did what was best.

WE must understand that it’s hard being famous, it hard living a super star life, and although that’s what they sign up for, we must understand that pressure can kill anyone. We love Whitney and we are showing her that now, just maybe we should have showed her that earlier. The media tells us stories about artist and artist spend their days trying to prove that wrong or change viewer’s images of them… This is called, pressure. She wasn’t attending the Grammys, and God had that plan too. It’s sad, because she had nothing to prove, Houston had proved it with; her voice, her acting, and her music. I can’t blame her for being human, living her life, and making mistakes. Rest Whitney, Rest.

I Brought You In & I Will Take You Out

Martia’ Holloway

October 31, 2011

Nonfiction I

Essay #6

Pure white walls, a very well waxed floor, two chairs, a bed, one window, one small television mounted on the wall, and about six people standing around. As one lay in the bed, eating crushed ice in a very cold room. There was a mother, a father, a first cousin, a “baby daddy,” a daughter, and a sister. I know it was February 18, 2003 at 2:35 in the afternoon. I can remember this, because I was there and I remember. I can recall this.

The daughter lay in the bed with so much pain in her eyes, and every few minutes she would move and squirm around saying, “Mommy, I can’t do this it hurts so badly.” The mommy would reply, “You have to do this, we’re all here for you. The baby is coming whether you’re ready or not.” The baby daddy stood alongside the bed of his baby mother, not really knowing how to sooth her or even how to be a father. I was there too; I was the sister who I spoke about in the beginning. I was about seventeen years old and I wanted to know everything about having a baby and seeing my niece come into the world.

I didn’t stand alongside the bed; I paced the room asking my sister, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Can you feel anything? What’s the ice for?” I continued to ask for the next few hours, because I didn’t know a woman could lie in a bed, eating crushed ice, and being mean to everyone just because she chose to have a baby. I was inquisitive and I was soon, no more like later about to find out. It quickly went from 2:38 in the afternoon to 5:00 in the evening. The cousin was restless, the father was scared, and the baby daddy was lost.

A nurse would often come into the room, pull back the blue curtain, ask everyone to leave but my mother, the baby daddy, and myself. I guess because we were the ones who would be staying for the actual birth of the baby. The nurse, in her plastic shoes, and light blue smocks reached into the drawer for a glove. She would ask the baby mother a series of questions, way more complicated than the ones I asked. With that gloved hand, she put a clear cream on and shoved her hand right in my sister’s virgin. “You’re dilated about four centimeters.” I don’t remember the exact measurements, because I’ve never been any good at math.

2:38 pm, 5:00 pm, and now 7:00 pm and still no baby in sight. The mother sat in the chair, the cousin in the waiting room with his friend who arrived to keep him company, the baby daddy sat in another chair that he drug over to left side of the bed. The father sat on the heater in the labor and delivery room, the sister (myself) still pacing. Still wondering, “What the hell was taking so long and what in the hell is an epidural?” The daughter sat up, bent over, and held on to the arm of her baby daddy as the nurse inserted the needle. Whatever that shit was, the daughter turned into someone very heavy medicated in about thirty minutes or what seemed like thirty minutes to me.

7:00 pm, 8:00 pm, 9:00 pm, 10:00 pm and still nothing. We were all restless and I had asked the same questions about a million times, but my sister just kept giving me the evil eye. The nurse came in about one hundred times and each time she violated my sister. Finally the nurse said, “You are dilated ten centimeters.” Everyone jumped up, rearranged their seats, and prepared themselves. I didn’t I continued to pace the room until I realized something big was about to happen. I looked up at the clock which had just struck midnight. The nurse cleared the room except for; me, the mother, and the baby daddy. My father said, “Got to go, I can’t stand this.”

The doctor came into the room and gave out orders as if he had been the one waiting for hours. The baby daddy and a nurse held my sisters legs back, I stood right in front of the hole waiting to see what was going to happen and what was going to come out. My sister began to push and push and push. Until finally I could see a head I yelled out over top of others screaming, “You can do this.” But, I had the best view so I yelled, “Kara I can see the head, omg!” Just as I said that the doctor reached for the emergency button. He said the baby was in distress.

I watched as they twisted and turned the head of the baby and her blood pressure dropped, the umbilical cord was around her neck. Once they pulled her out she wasn’t crying or moving. Then eventually she cried. They took her away instantly, washed her, and dressed her in the hospital fashion baby attire and handed her off. Pierce Deas was born at 4:38 am on February 19, 2003.

I know it seems like I skipped a whole piece of information and why the baby was in distress? I don’t know though, because no one said anything to us they just moved around quickly. The doctor and nurses only interacted with each other and finally a baby came out.

All I know is now I see why my mom says, “I brought you into this world and I will take you out.” She probably had to lie in a bed, eating crushed ice, and being mean. 

I Too Wore a Letter across My Chest

Martia’ Holloway

October 16, 2011

Nonfiction I

Essay # 4

I bore a letter across my chest like; Hester wore her A in the Scarlett Letter. However, the letter I wore wasn't an A, nor was it B or C, and not even D. This letter ruined my life and some of the best relationships I have ever encountered. It wasn’t E, or F. This letter was in the beginning of the alphabet and not so much the end. This was my letter to symbolize something far greater than the A, Hester wore with grace. I couldn’t take pride in my letter, and I dare not wear it across my chest. It wasn’t the letter P, because I had forgotten how to pray. It wasn’t the letter G, because I had lost that close relationship with God.

                                                                        The Scarlett Letter is the story of Hester Prynne, who conceives a daughter through an adulterous affair and struggles to create a new life of Repentance and dignity. Throughout the book, Hawthorne explores themes of legalism, sin, and guilt.

I struggle with my letter to find someone who will accept it, someone who will love me no matter what. Or am I like Hester and my only options are; to wear this letter with pride, to love me, and to find dignity in myself no matter what letter I own.

Question:

What if we all had to wear a letter that told the truth about us or who we were?

A is for Adultery

B is for Babies

C is for Currency

D is for Death

E is for Economy

F is for Failure

Failure, something I feared like Death, something that meant so much in my life, but it wasn't my letter. I can't bear to tell the world and its only one place I feel this letter would be okay. Climb through my ears, walk about a mile and you will be in this place. Once inside, it will be really dark and hollow, so remember to bring your flash light. Watch out for all the words passing by, those are just my thoughts, and when I’m really angry you’ll hear a loud noise; that’s me yelling inside my head when I’ve had enough.

                                                                                                                        Answer:

                                                                                                            Some of us would be hiding!

Explore every inch of my mind, because that’s the only way you’ll know exactly who I ‘am or what I’m feeling. You’ll see the letter I’m talking about, but it will be in word form instead of one letter. It will scare the shit out of you, but don’t run out the other side, please don’t. I’ve had enough of that. Just try to understand me and what I’m thinking. We all have sinned, and we all have suffered the consequence of sins.

Sin: any act regarded as such a transgression, especially a willful or deliberate violation of some religious or moral principle.    

I was suffering this consequence of my own sins. But it wasn’t the letter C, K, or the letter L, not even M or N. It wasn’t at the end of the alphabet or the beginning, maybe not quite the middle either.

K is for Kill

L is for Love (if you believe in that)

M is for Many

N is for Nigga (the slang way)

                                                                                                            Questions: What is Love?

Is love the reason Hester wore the A, is love the reason why she committed the A? Isn’t it ironic that my letter causes people who love me, to never accept that part of me? L is for love, but also lust, loser, last, and late. All the things we associate with being horrible.  

                                                                                                Answer: Who honestly know the truth?

Inside this place, you will hear music (cover your ears); those are the songs I love. You will see regrets, accomplishments, and fears. All the things I chose not to speak, nor wear across my chest. Or is it that way only to me? While inside this place, you will see who I’ am as a person, my sins, my likes, and dislikes, you will see my letter.

It’s not Z, Q, or S.

Z is for Zoo (that’s what this world is)

Q is for Quitter (which I will never do)

S is for Sorry (I only apologize)

Dignity: bearing, conduct, or speech indicative of self-respect or appreciation of the formality or gravity of an occasion or situation.

Listen, I bore a letter across my chest like Scarlett wore her A; however I didn’t wear my letter literally, just wore the scars.

Micheal Jackson and The Media

Micheal Jackson and The Media

“To you Michael is an icon, but to us he is family”, said Janet Jackson at the 2009 BET awards. Michael Jackson passed away June 25, 2009 from an overdose to the lethal ejection propofol, mostly used in surgery settings. But it could be said that Jackson died long before then, that his soul had been taken from him by; the media, close friends, and even his fans.
Now you can find yourself listening to Jackson’s greatest hits and remembering the times, literally. However it’s also easy to forget just what Michael Jackson meant to African Americans in music, to children growing up singing, and to people struggling all across the country.
Though it’s easily forgotten that Jackson was the first African American to have a video aired on MTV, it’s easy to forget that he’s in the genesis book of world records for being the most charitable artist, and that regardless of his fame he opened his home to kids to enjoy what he didn’t have as a child.
But why is it so hard to forget? Well the media made it hard, because all you saw was the bad; from calling him wacko-jacko to saying Jackson was even gay. You saw his skin changing, but were never told why it changed; only that Michael Jackson wanted to be white. You saw his nose changing, his body so frail and skinny, and him being portrayed as a monster in his molestation trials.
Allegations were made against Jackson, yet he was acquitted of all charges. Jackson faced serious allegations of child abuse; though Jackson always stated, he was innocent. A multimillion dollar settlement was reached in the first case in 1993, and Jackson was found not guilty in a trial which mocked the judicial system in 2005.
But in a way those trials seriously hurt Jackson, think about it. What if Michael really just wanted to give kids what he never had, what if he wanted his fans to see him at his BEST and when fans turned their backs, he lost what made him who he was… the beloved Michael who was a smooth criminal and left blood on any dance floor.
Many felt he had been convicted in the court of public opinion. In a 1995 interview, Jackson told ABC's Diane Sawyer, “It just isn't fair what they put me through. There isn't one piece of information that says that I did this -- nothing, nothing, nothing."
Is too much media coverage a problem? Well that’s a question most can answer themselves.
Michael grew up in a way many of us will never understand. A note to the media you can’t forget that the celebrities you are reporting on are still human and even though they say words don’t hurt, we all know they can. At some point too much media coverage on one individual or case can cause viewers to form certain opinions, you know like agenda setting.
To fans think about having your life full of cameras and you never get to find who you are because as a child you were denied the chance, and as an adult you have so many expectations to live up to; like always trying to the best, the greatest, the king.
To doctors who treat celebrities think about it like this; in a way you kind of have the power to save a life or end one. When will you stop giving celebrities medicine? When will you tell a celebrity NO, this will kill you. Is money really the deciding factor in who doctors save or who they watch vanish right before their eyes?
The world saw a memorial put on by AEG, the company sponsoring Michael’s concert tours. But is the world letting the king of pop rest in peace? There’s a difference between honoring a life of great legacy and high lightening what made him JACKO. And like Janet Jackson said, he’s a member of their family, he’s more than an icon; he’s the greatest entertainer to ever live, and may he rest in peace.

Life as a Model

 The life of a model… Since 2006, I have coined myself as America’s Next Top Model, because the dream of winning the hit reality show was first on my mind and for the last four years I have tried out for over four seasons.

If you have ever seen me then you know, I’m 5’7, about 115 pounds, and my legs are almost 80 percent of my body. Well my name is Martia’ Holloway, and I’m going to take you on a journey where few I have made it.

If you have ever seen ANTM, then you know exactly how it feels to be a model, and just exactly how hard it is to be on top. Well modeling is nothing really like that at all, it’s more intense and you receive a lot more criticism on the way you look and the way you walk.

In 2004, I went to a model call for a agency in Virginia and they told me that in order to model I must lose 20 more pounds and at that time I was already 110 pounds, so I gave up.

Then in 2005, I did my first hair show, for Isoy Hair Couture, and the show was produced by; Diva Dolls Incorporated, our theme was a tribute to New Orleans. I stepped on the runway palms sweaty and body shaking, then my music queue came on; “show me what got lil mama, show me what you got lil lady, hands up now wave.” And I took off strutting down the runway, looking side to side at everyone in the building; I placed my right hand on my hips then my left hand on my hip. By that moment I was at the end of the runway and struck the meanest pose ever, turned off and strutted back down the runway.

From that moment on you couldn’t tell me nothing, that was until, the summer of 2006 when I tried out for season nine of America’s Next Top model, I had slept outside the venue where tryouts were being held. That morning at about 8a.m I woke up brush my teeth with toothpaste and a water bottle, and got dressed in the car. I stood in line for almost six hours, when my number was finally called. “Hello number 29, step up and please allow our assistant to measure you,” said a representative from UPN.

I was so excited; my heart was racing so fast I could hear it through my chest. “Number 29, is 5’6 ¾, we’re sorry, but you must be at least 5’7.” I didn’t know for sure if I had heard him right, because the room suddenly got quiet and I froze in place, but that didn’t stop the tears and agony I felt hearing those words. That stopped me for a few months, I became very depressed, but I continued to do hair shows and to rip the runway for Isoy Hair Couture.

However after that moment I continued to try out for ANTM, and my last stop was the tryout for 5’6 and under, however since I haven’t gotten a call so, I didn’t make it. But do I give up or keep strutting until someone says, “hey you, you have what it takes to be on top, show me what you got.”

READ IT, OR LOSE IT!!!!

Today in my writing for New Media class we discussed what it takes to be a “great” writer or what it takes to be great at anything. Truth is though you don’t have to be great anymore, if you are great chances are you’ll make it, but then there’s that slim chance that you will be over looked by the already successful or the person who has the look.  

Don’t take what I’m saying to literal, but for example look at famous singers, most of the females can’t sing live at all, but they have the look so they made it. You want to be a writer, but you have the hardest time getting published and you’re angry because your books are written well, but individuals rather read Kim Kardashians book instead.

That raises the notation, what is being good anymore, because in today’s society you don’t have to be good, or the best you just have to market yourself like hell, make videos on YouTube, and self publish your work.

Has technology made us dumb? Do we rely on facebook and twitter to inform us on “news” worthy information? I think we have, we are all guilty of reading less important content and skimming through significant content.

Though, my friends from home want to support my dream as a writer, I also understand that they probably barely read my blog or scan it, I should just put bits and pieces on twitter at a time since I have over seven hundred followers. Or should I make a note on facebook and tag who I want to read with hopes all three thousand of my friends will be interested. Nope, better yet I’ll make a video blog and just provide the information in a video so you don’t have to read at all.

Bill Cosby said, “If you want to hide something from a nigger put it in a book.” It’s no longer the African American community who doesn’t read, it’s our whole society. It’s extended from younger generations and reached older generations as well. We are reading less and tweeting more. You can Google just about anything and find information, photos, or videos for it. You can buy essays and read books on line so just burn paperbacks.

Regardless, you never want to lose the essence of what made our society an educated people. And, if it’s no longer cool to be educated, call me a lame.  Just because you don’t have to be “great” anymore doesn’t mean you lower your standards as a writer (grammar), musicians (auto-tone), and artist; well art will always be the same you can’t fake a picture.

Save our society, our generation’s young and old, and save your mind. Read something with extensive content, which has meaning, and maybe even provokes you to do something. Children can’t grow up wondering what paperbacks are, because they have a kindle or a device that reads the book to them.

Sparks Notes, thank you because a few times you helped me through high school, however I can’t hold a proper conversation on the true subject matter of the book now.

I’m not judging anyone I’m just expressing my frustrations on what being “good” or being “great” actually is, no I’m hoping you will realize that you have become a slave to modern day technology and forgot to use your brain.

So I will continue to read, write, and blog. And, maybe in a last minute effort to be great I’ll self publish a book. I mean the outlets are out there to do whatever, unless you want to be great, then you’ll use those outlets wisely.

BasketBall Wives LA

Ok! Since everyone is saying it, it's about time we made it KNOWN! The new Basketball Wives LA sucks... We can only put up with the original Basketball Wives, because we as viewers have grown to love them and their drama and Evelyn with her sayings keeps us entertained.

Oh yeah, and at least their husbands, boyfriends, baby daddys, or ex husbands were known. The LA Wives we don’t know them or who the hell their husbands are. @governorking said, “Basketball Wives LA is the reason we should all read more.” By we, he means African Americans, especially women.

LA #BBW cause their own drama and find ways to beef it's not real at all. It's too scripted, Gloria Govan is the new Shaunie and she’s the leader of the pack, her sister is just on there for publicity, because we know she had sexual relations with Shaq (Shaunie making that money) and she had to bring her sister along. I don’t even know anyone else’s name and haven’t taken them time to learn them either.

Laura Govan said, “She’s been though a lot. She’s just had a baby, moved a crossed country, had a public break up with someone famous, and dated a celebrity.” That is not a hard life girl, shit that’s easy talk to some of the baby mommas I know, or females who really had a hard life.

The "jump-off girl" (Draya Michele )needs to stand up to them and tell them, "they are all groupies because they are all making a living off of their husband's name and living off their basketball money too. So she's no different from them, they either had a ring or have one or not."  

@ZetaNoLyeBeta tweeted, “It’s rather boring, but that Draya girl makes for good entertainment. LOL.”  Good point, the one they hate may be the one to steal the show, maybe she will get promoted to the original #BBW and take Meeka “Liar” Claxton’s place.

Viewers are not feeling these LA wives and they aren't afraid to voice it just look a twitter and facebook. @Dial_Is_Taken thinks, “I thought the last #BBW was ghetto, but the LA ones are terrible, they look terrible, and their behavior is terrible. It’s all bad.”

Shaunie I understand you needed a spin off or some air time while the original #BBWS was off season, but this is not the way to go about it, how about getting a show with women who want to be basketball wives more people would tune into that, matter of fact we would watch anything but #BBWLA!

They are always saying it’s so hard to be a #BBW; shit it’s hard being anybodies wife, girlfriend, or baby momma. All men cheat and females are thirsty and are always out to get someone else’s man. It’s not just famous rich men; a female will go after a fine broke nigga. Keep it real.

Shit, I should be on there since I have a crush on Shannon Brown… 



Closing One Chapter & Opening Another

Graduate School

As I start a new journey in life, it’s only right that as a journalist I close one chapter by writing and open another chapter with insight on what I hope to gain from the voyage this time around. I have a chance to get my Masters, a chance that doesn’t come often and yes the loan money will be a pain paying back, but I’m securing my future.

I can kill two birds with one stone, not literally. Yet, I can go to school and go where the opportunity is as well.  I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while and all though it comes premature; I’m risking it all just to get a shot, one shot. If I learned one thing from undergraduate, I learned that internships are important and that’s my first task.

I want my mom to know she raised a wonderful daughter and my family to know, “our time is coming.” Believe that, our time is defiantly coming, so get ready our lives are about to change.

I will be okay mom, I got faith, I got family, and I got three of the best friends in the world (S.W, J.B, & M.H).  As long as I remember to have faith and pray (something I need to work on) then I shall be fine. I have drive and dreams and that’s enough to push anybody.  I have a plan too.

Just pray for me, encourage me, and believe in me and that’s enough. I will though miss you guys while I’m there, but it’s for a good cause. I will be leaving behind some of the most important people in my life, but that doesn’t mean I don't care about them and love them all the same; be good “Weeza Weeza”, S. LEE thanks for everything you do for me, I <3 you, and M. Rather (Riley) love you BFF…

-Martia’

www.martiajournalist.blogspot.com

follow me @Martiathemodel7

Dear V.A.

I've spent the last year of my life in the same state that four years ago I promised myself that I would NEVER return to, however since life is so unexpected I had to break that promise after college. I've been so angry all my life at Virginia because she failed to give me the city life I crave for, she stepped on my dreams, and she turned her back on my future.

V.A is a place to settle and always has been since; 1776 and it fails to offer  big dreamers a place to launch their dreams into reality. It's about promoting the already successful and pushing back the ones pressing forward. I've been angry at V.A. because nothing comes from here, nothing is started here, and nothing is here...

I've become unhappy and settled in a life that I know isn't for me, the curse of V.A. has struck and I'm scared I'm stuck. After sitting in my room for the last two hours thinking of my next plan to leave, someone said something to me.  He said, "just because nothing comes from here, doesn't mean you can't be the first to start it."

But, when people see VA they automatically think the country side with fields and hills; not glamour, heels, and city life because that's not what it has to offer. I could change the dynamic of my state, or I could turn my back on her as she has done to us... Do I stay here and fight to put VA on the map or do I make it and be like other famous individuals from here and never state what my State has done for me...

So I was researching and found that the motto of VA is, "Sic Semper Tyrannis." Which means, "Thus is always Tyrants." And "Tyrants means; "a sovereign or other ruler who uses power oppressively or unjustly." Now, what type of motto is that for a state in a Democracy?

The symbol is a woman standing on a man's neck, which is suppose to mean; The two figures are acting out the meaning of the motto. Both are dressed as warriors. The woman, Virtue, represents Virginia. The man holding a scourge and chain shows that he is a tyrant. His fallen crown is nearby.

The woman is standing on the man's neck and the man is "tyrant" and has fallen to the woman, but that makes no since at all. Because if the man is "tyrant" and has fallen to the woman then why is our motto centered around the definition of being a 'tyrant"? I don't get it? Do you?

So can one really blame me from running from the same state, that made me a product of my environment, not in the literal sense. I hate VA, I hate what it has done to my friends and my family. It has given girls my age nothing to look forward but babies and baby daddies, and the government supporting their lifestyle.  I hate that it has over looked violence, because they were looking for drugs which in turn buried my friends at an early age.

I hate that my friends are stuck , and believe this is all that life has to offer? I hate that my friends gave up! One can say that I should blame my friends, but they blame themselves enough. V.A. you only have enough to offer the already successful, and nothing to offer the trying to become a success.

Dear, V.A.