Post by Torture on Nov 22, 2006 23:59:47 GMT -5
- Torture. The Tort is wearing a dark red button up shirt that isn't buttoned up at all. It's open with his chest bare. Necklace hanging down... it shines. His brown eyes tell a million stories, too many, infact. His hair is messy. However, it is combed. Just not gelled. But that messy look. He's sitting down on the floor of his massive bed room. He's looking at someone, can't tell who though. Torture runs his hands through his short hair and scratches his shoulder.
Torture: Some say life is but a dream. I laugh. I laugh inside not because it's funny, but because I believe it. I feel we never really wake up untill we're in our final destination. Thats why I hope I never have to wake up. I just want to sit in a beach chair and dream all day. To actually really get to that beach chair though, I have to hustle and grind three hundred and sixty five days out of the year. I don't get days off. Hell, on leap years it's three hundred and sixty six days. When you're destined to be something, it's not like the doors are just opening up for you. Sometimes you have to knock and knock. Sometimes you got the key and sometimes you don't. Ya'know? I mean sometimes, shit, you have to use some kicks, or punches to get through the door. Whatever it is, to be the best, you have to go through every test, man.
Although I don't have demons in the past, I feel I got karma comin' up on me every second. If not karma, I got hustlers out there just like me, comin' up to me gettin' at me. They want what I got. Success. They need what I have. Wins. They have holes in their souls just like I do, from whatever it was that hurt them last. I know. I'm just like them. So why do I get the jeers? So, why do I have to be looked at like I'm the target? I didn't do anything different than they did. I'm just like them. A hustler. I do what I have to do to keep on winning in life.
You know, from being on the streets my younger life, I heard multiple gun shots. I heard the sirens. But what I have going on right now, I think is worse. I got men who will do anything to get ahead. It's bad, but it's life. It's real life. I'm not afraid of dyin'. I'm more afraid of not tryin'! I've beaten dudes at their own games. At my games. At Mind Games. I've beaten dudes that were the best. I've beaten dudes when they were at their best. Someday, a dudes going to beat me. I don't mind it. Just as long as he has the respect to know he beat me, and he'll do what it takes to have his legacy continue on. It's all about legacy. We all want to leave it behind, ya'know? I want to leave mine behind. Atleast, leave it. One day, I'm going to leave behind my shiny new beach chair.
When you look in my eyes, what do you see? You should see a map. A map for this damn life and where it's going to lead me. A blueprint. I'm the Creator. I made everything that this Federation is now based on. Whether dudes like it or not, I'm the front runner, not because someone in the back wants me to be, but because I'm better than them. It hurts, I know it does. It hurt me when I was always told dudes were better than me. I know it. I'm like juice in a winners cup. Haha. I'm the thinnest cut slice off the successful cube of cheese. But atleast I'm a slice right?
- He stands up off of the floor and the camera turns to face what he was facing. A large stand-up mirror hanging on the wall. Torture turns and picks up his cell-phone while he takes off his shirt. Someone on the other end picks up the line, because he begins to talk.
Torture: Hey, I'm still going over to your parents place for Thanksgiving, right? Alright man. I'll cruise down there around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Alright. See ya man. Peace.
- He takes the top comforter and sheet from the top of his bed and folds it down to the middle. He climbs in his bed and pulls the blankets back over him. He reaches up and turns off a lamp next to his bed. He grabs a remote from his night-stand and presses a few buttons, and within seconds the lights in his bedroom and walk-in closet turn off. He sets the remote down. He turns over and the scene fades to black.
Torture: Some say life is but a dream. I laugh. I laugh inside not because it's funny, but because I believe it. I feel we never really wake up untill we're in our final destination. Thats why I hope I never have to wake up. I just want to sit in a beach chair and dream all day. To actually really get to that beach chair though, I have to hustle and grind three hundred and sixty five days out of the year. I don't get days off. Hell, on leap years it's three hundred and sixty six days. When you're destined to be something, it's not like the doors are just opening up for you. Sometimes you have to knock and knock. Sometimes you got the key and sometimes you don't. Ya'know? I mean sometimes, shit, you have to use some kicks, or punches to get through the door. Whatever it is, to be the best, you have to go through every test, man.
Although I don't have demons in the past, I feel I got karma comin' up on me every second. If not karma, I got hustlers out there just like me, comin' up to me gettin' at me. They want what I got. Success. They need what I have. Wins. They have holes in their souls just like I do, from whatever it was that hurt them last. I know. I'm just like them. So why do I get the jeers? So, why do I have to be looked at like I'm the target? I didn't do anything different than they did. I'm just like them. A hustler. I do what I have to do to keep on winning in life.
You know, from being on the streets my younger life, I heard multiple gun shots. I heard the sirens. But what I have going on right now, I think is worse. I got men who will do anything to get ahead. It's bad, but it's life. It's real life. I'm not afraid of dyin'. I'm more afraid of not tryin'! I've beaten dudes at their own games. At my games. At Mind Games. I've beaten dudes that were the best. I've beaten dudes when they were at their best. Someday, a dudes going to beat me. I don't mind it. Just as long as he has the respect to know he beat me, and he'll do what it takes to have his legacy continue on. It's all about legacy. We all want to leave it behind, ya'know? I want to leave mine behind. Atleast, leave it. One day, I'm going to leave behind my shiny new beach chair.
When you look in my eyes, what do you see? You should see a map. A map for this damn life and where it's going to lead me. A blueprint. I'm the Creator. I made everything that this Federation is now based on. Whether dudes like it or not, I'm the front runner, not because someone in the back wants me to be, but because I'm better than them. It hurts, I know it does. It hurt me when I was always told dudes were better than me. I know it. I'm like juice in a winners cup. Haha. I'm the thinnest cut slice off the successful cube of cheese. But atleast I'm a slice right?
- He stands up off of the floor and the camera turns to face what he was facing. A large stand-up mirror hanging on the wall. Torture turns and picks up his cell-phone while he takes off his shirt. Someone on the other end picks up the line, because he begins to talk.
Torture: Hey, I'm still going over to your parents place for Thanksgiving, right? Alright man. I'll cruise down there around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Alright. See ya man. Peace.
- He takes the top comforter and sheet from the top of his bed and folds it down to the middle. He climbs in his bed and pulls the blankets back over him. He reaches up and turns off a lamp next to his bed. He grabs a remote from his night-stand and presses a few buttons, and within seconds the lights in his bedroom and walk-in closet turn off. He sets the remote down. He turns over and the scene fades to black.
