"BALLING IN THE REGAL".


A boy's dad goes out his front door, he is in a sweaty long sleeved shirt with jeans and boots that weighs a thousand pounds.The look of exhaustion was evident on the old man's face. But the old man still made sure to see his son and play some hoops with him as it helped him relax before he went inside. His shot was not that great but at least it was much better than his sons. Dad's shot Got near the rim but the son's shot was literally "what in the hell "??. Yeah , he himself admits, he was not that great at shooting hoops back then. However moral of the short story is
To the boy his dad coming to play with him for just a little while made him really happy and it had an everlasting impact on his mind.
My dear reader, I want you to ask yourself how many kids out there are in need of just a simple smile from a hard working dad appreciating their sons for a fraction of a second with something as simple as shooting one hoop or maybe two?
You see, suicide has been correlated with not having the proper love consistently. The affection we all need. Suicide mainly happens because the love is going, going gone. Slowly and miserly , the pain of drifting away consumes. You see I like to think that people are like dump trucks. We are all so caught up with talking bad about others and absorbing and feeding off that negatively that we tend to dump all the shit picked up along the way on top of others. I would like you to think for a second, my dear reader, how many teen Suicides do you think could be avoided if we turned off the news, spent more time with one another, gave praise for the life that we have and grew up to be a better person for one another. They say it is rare to find something special nowadays in a person who is alive but the truth is the world's makes it so. You see you and I amongst withn Each and every person in the heaven fields are the realest ones. We are are all the rare ones. The ones that get to wake to rise as the sun sun does. We are all The Golden ones and The chosen ones. Together were all under this dome together. So why should we not treat everyone like the epitome of greatness?
The boy is the story is Me and my pops playing basketball as I recalled in one of my favorite childhood's memory. WELL, not quite Ok ok thats a lie I was still 17 years old.. you see pops was my adoptive father who Passed away and I write this story in memory of him and for a friend that took his life. WE all lacked to see the pain he was in and how much the world was hurting him. Maybe if he had a friend, father or even as simple as an accaincuience to just shoot him a text or hell shoot some hoops with him, he would have felt the love he needed moment before he took his life that night. To VICTOR, my bad G
In the heaven fields we will lace Up. LEGEND!!
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