Alright so I’m gonna cover grounds on a previous post based on the fact that I’ve got a couple cats on here who’ve jumped the gun by calling me out. user—404and beliefsatindica To start off, peace. I’m not a thug or a punk who goes off at the mouth when I’m lipped a foul word or two. I sit, listen, observe, plan, THEN execute, whether in retaliation or amends. Peep, for y’all to just spit out words like so, is some fabulous dramatics, really. In that photo, I was cruising, CRUUUUISINGGGG. I’m more than sure you two know what that means and have definitely done so before, if not on various occasions. Just chillin, vibin, headphones on, and pushin the pavement in the direction you’re headed. Which is exactly what I was doing. I didn’t and haven’t done any tricks for a while, pointing out the fairly new condition of my shoes, which is ironic because I got those shoes the same day of that picture. Now, let’s take a step back as to why I haven’t done any tricks in a while, and kinda lay off of em for the most part as of now. Bite your tongues y’all, let’s go. In late 2011, I was in an accident..like an ACCIDENT accident. I was skating across the street, was hit by a car by some dame who took a nasty turn on that street corner, picked me up onto the hood of her car, dented the hell out of it, bashed in her windshield with my body, bounced off and hit ANOTHER car, then hit the pavement and rolled down the rest of the street. Pretty gnarly right? From there I was rushed to the hospital, where the medical team assumed that I’d hit them pearly gates anytime soon. I’d lost A LOT of blood. Dome was split, ear was ripped in half, right side of my face looked like someone had tried massaging it with sandpaper and glass, jaw was broken, eyeballs bloodshot and bruised to the darkest shades of purple and black, lacerated hands, arms, and elbows, internal and external bruising from the top to the bottom of my body, a 1 inch wide 3 inch deep gash on my left waist (piece of glass stuck inside), left leg bones from my shin to my foot were CRUSHED and shattered, along with ripped open wounds across my leg. Sound bangin yet? Nah. Head surgeon of the team walked in hitting me with the words “Son, I’m sorry to say but due to the heavy and extensive damage, you won’t be skating anymore..” Boom. The first few nights in the hospital I was supposed to be announced dead due to my major blood decrease and heavy bodily damage. Only thing I felt I was grabbin onto was the drugs and a prayer. They’d put a stupid amount of drugs in my IVs and my hourly check ups to keep my heart pumpin. But yo, God is good holmes. Bless the souls who kept me alive for roughly a month in all three hospitals for all 4 surgeries. Christmas in a hospital bed. Moms and pops weepin. Both brothers buggin out. Best friends pacin back and forth while tears drippin. Family gathered together awaiting for my time to come. And I’m just heavin for every other breath available to me. I didn’t cry, not that I remember anyway, but I did choke on knots seeing my moms cry. Hurt seeing that more than my accident did. But yo, I guess I did have someone watchin over me. I left with a steel plate and 12 screws inside my lower left leg and ankle. Better yet, I left with my life. Spent a year in rehab, had to learn how to walk again, and transitioned from a wheelchair, to crutches, to a cane, to limping, to finally getting around on my own again. Before I left rehab, my physiatrist told me “I doubt you’re gonna listen to what your surgeon said, or myself for that matter, so if you ever pick up a skateboard again, be sure to not do any tricks.” I asked him why, and he responded with “because you’ll rip that steel plate right outta your leg.” I didn’t believe em at first, until about roughly a year later I picked up a deck and just practiced balancing in my room, then in my yard, then on the street. It was sketchy at first, but I eventually came around. That’s when I remembered I was told to NOT do any tricks..so I tested it, busted a simple ollie, a pretty high one at that, and landed…but yoo I felt the plate hella tug against my skin and bones, and I cringed to sadly realize that the doctors were right, no more tricks for me, and it didn’t and doesn’t help that my ankle no longer functions as it used to. So from then and there I’ve just been cruisin, takin my time with things and places I needa go. What am I getting at? The way I put my shoes on and tie my laces together is the exact same way you do yours. Are my shoes gonna look torn and smudged from the way I skate? Nope, because all I’m literally able to do anymore is just kick and push. But I’m cool with that. I’m a born and raised San Franciscan. Where the sidewalks never end, the hills are made for savage bombing, and there’s more than enough room on the streets for us cats to get on by. At this point your shoes might look more scuffed up than mine, but lemme elaborate with the reality that I know for damn sure I’ve worn out far more pairs of shoes than both of you put together. Am I calling y’all out? No. Am I dissing in any way? Of course not. I’m just presenting you both with the fact that you gotta gather some righteous words of disagreement and truths before laying out some whack schematics. Do some research, acquire knowledge, gain wisdom, but don’t mouth off. You’ll fall face flat every time. What was the whole point of this? IT WAS A FREAKING PICTURE OF SOME SHOES AND A DECK, seriously, chill y’all, I really was tired though, haha. Anyway, to you both, in the words of the great Nat King Cole, "I wish you health, and more than wealth, I wish you love." Keep your knees in the breeze bruthas, word is bond.