*warning: if you are reading this looking for fresh and particularly constructive information
this here is not the post for that – this entry serves as a memoir
yesterday was my 26th birthphase,
alot happened, but not so much in terms of events…even if that may surprise a few people. In terms of milestones however, there was much to be pleased with. For starters, after having my claim for DLA rejected in November 2011, having gone before the tribunal on the 8th – and exuding disinterest and indifference – I was awarded a component of the allowance – which in turn, immediately placed 2,000 in my otherwise scant bank. In addition to that, for the first time since November of 2011 – not withstanding the interview on the COWS – I appeared on radio, and, founding the dynasty, put in motion the legacy. After that, I was also seen by health consultants for my physical complaints, also setting in motion a line of investigation and assessment which is to be followed by a course of treatment, and yet, in spite of these fresh prospects for a new beginning, and all that has complimented them, the only thing that stands out is the phone call I just had.
I first met Kaka in year 4, when I moved to a new school. (Maybe we were 7.) He came to be my “best friend” in the only true sense of the word. It last until we were about 15/16, and yet, things changed. In 2004, I lost contact with many people after moving homes, and yet, that was not the reason we lost touch: I also broke away. Dwelling at the same abode got burdensome and so, one day, I got up and I let. I didn’t visit that much after that day, or call as much until I went astray. Many years later, he called me, and I bumped into him twice or three times, but I was not particularly bothered. I didn’t want to be associated with what I saw as stagnancy. Attempting to move forward and find myself in the world, I had to venture out and get away from it all. Afterwards, I heard he was homeless for a while before completing his conversion, he moved out of the area and that was the last I heard for a while. In those seven years, it has been chaotic. I left homes and peoples, until finally, today, Here I am.
It has been said that life is what happens whilst your busy making plans. It has also been said that we’re “here for a moment; scattered for a lifetime.” Likewise, in out younger days, I thought me a Kaka would be associated all throughout and yet, it didn’t play out that way. In fact, I doubt it could have. We weren’t just young; we were without direction. After being bounced about mentoring programmes, having long “misbehaved” in schools, we soon found ourselves out on the street, having failed to master the art of rent. (In his case, his mother went on holiday, and although he imagined all was fine, he tried to come back home only to discover she had changed the locks.) It seems w both went through the phase of becoming autonomous, and moving towards independence (self-sufficiency and adult competence, which is, being able to function as an active participant in “society.”) Of course, we weren’t in sync with the pace of the world, but we caught up. We could both be better, and yet, we have learnt enough to get by.
Later on, I always thought I had failed him; that I had abandoned him; that he was betrayed. We were like one, and yet, I just picked up and left. Ambition was calling, and being militaristic, I was not one to choreography plans or broadcast intentions, so I just left. Years later, having spoken to him for the first time, I guess I can say, with assurance, I have no regrets. I had nothing to bring to him; even if I wanted to, there was nothing I could offer. Even when he was homeless – and in need – there was nothing I could do for him: I had no power; I had no money; I had no house; I had no future, and having just spoken, I guess we can both appreciate that. Unlike the other people from school – who could play and act up – we didn’t have anything to fall back on and so literally, when the time came, we found ourselves on our own, just like the blocks. Nowadays, he is married and with a child living elsewhere, away from our upbringing. I am still around, but not so close. Unlike him, however, I have no “family”, and the very idea could not have been feasible. I am, for instance, under the “care” of the early intervention team, whom I have just learned with be involved in my case for at least two more years.
*”Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young” written by Mary Schmich and published in the Chicago Tribune as a column in 1997, and similar to 1927 poem “Desiderata”.