Rememberance of My Youth:

I was a fresh graduate of Pikesville Middle School. My age was 15, and I embodied an earnest desire to write. My spelling was horrible, my grammar was nonexistent, and I desired to be a poet and novelist. There I was, year 1994, a former special education student who had accomplished the magnificent goal of working out of special education classes, and eventually graduating to standard level classes. Yes! I was an accomplished individual. Not to mention the fact that during that same year prior to matriculating at Carver Center for Arts and Technology, which was the high school that I eventually graduated from in 1998. I experienced having my first girl friend, Sweet girl, and the sweet fruit of Nicole, who was my second girl friend.

Eighth grade was a memorable time for me. I was illuminated to the reality of sexual relationships and girls, the exploration of my inner creative writer, and the perseverance of my mentally sick mother. When I got my first girlfriend, I was about 14 1/2 years old and a suburban county raised boy, who knew nothing to little about the city of Baltimore. Church had just let out, and my sister, Sweet girl, and I ran out of church to patronize the corner store for some candy and chips. Like always we were there with a group of other children, and we all thought we were grown. Back in those days, one look at a girl could make your Johnson rise to the occasion, the occasion you weren't going to get for along time. We would stand outside the door of the corner store watching cars exit and enter the church's parking lot. You see, we attended the11 o'clock service, and since our parents were inside talking to various church goers, we had some time to ourselves. Note: Not to mention, we left church about 30 minutes early, and that gave us plenty time to chat and socialize. On our way back to church, my sister led the group with me in the middle, and Sweet girl taking up the rear. Sweet girl started of as Cherie's best friend, but soon she would become my girl friend, which of course may my sister Cherie increasingly jealous and angry. Sweet girl, who took up the rear of us three church goers turned Church goers playing hooky, wore a tight white spandex pants and tight shirt to compliment it. Sweet girl had booty and her breast had bounce and being a black man, at least I was a man, it looked good. She touched me on my butt, and I slowed my pace down. And she wanted some of me and that made me happy. We chatted, exchanged phone numbers, and hugged and we were on our separate ways. We tried to keep our relationship a secret, but eventually Cherie found out. Ashe was pissed and jealous. Like always, Cherie was selfish, and sharing was out of the question. On the other hand, Sweet girl had not problems with sharing. Because I had not game, our phone conversations were stuck to a minimal. We would meet up every Sunday, exchange letters, kisses, and hugs. Both my sister and I craved for her attention to the point that I sat on one side of her while Cherie sat on the side of her during the church sermon. To piss me off, my sister, Cherie would sometimes sit between Sweet girl and me. During that time in my life and all the way through high school, I perceived Cherie as selfish, rude, ungrateful, and at times even hateful. Over time she did change her mentality, and I now know that was due to Allah. I learned a lot about Sweet girl. Her father was not around, which is the case in numerous black families. Her mother was single parent with two other boys, who were Sweet girl's brothers. Also, Sweet girl had another relative, a little female cousin that was about 6 or 7 years old at the time. She was a cute little kid, and she reminded me of my niece Katrina. All of them lived in a house near my grandmother's house. Also, I learned that Sweet girl was not a virgin, which didn't matter to me at the time because I wanted to make love to her anyway. I was only made privy to this information because I had established a strong trusting relationship with her. She told me she had sex on the living room floor of her grandmother's house. Our conversation covered many subjects, like sex, music, family, and life