No one wants to get up at 4 and run when it’s pitch-dark, but it has to be done. The only reason i do it so early is because i believe the other guy isn’t doing it and that gives me a little edge.
I’m gonna make sure you talk about me, and your grandkids and kids after that gonna know about me…your great grandkids will say “wow, wasn’t that a bizarre individual?”
I don’t react to a tragic happening any more. I took so many bad things as a kid and some people think I don’t care about anything. It’s just too hard for me to get emotional. I can’t cry no more.
This white woman came up to me, and I’m thinking, WOW. When I was a kid, she would have been robbed and raped and left for dead. This is a real strange scenario, and I just wanted to cry. I’m like, “Who am I? Where’s my heritage?
