(this is an excerpt from a novel I am currently putting together entitled "Letters To Noam".)


There was a saying about leaders. It stated that true leaders born and only realize they true capabilities after years of battling life. This quotation went on to bring up the point that leaders are often the loneliest individuals one would ever meet because leaders find themselves stuck in the middle of most societal classes. They are able to look down at the rest of the world, all of the infighting, monotony and turmoil and make a hypothesis as to why those people waste their time. After looking down with apathy, the leader looks up toward the skies. His view is obstructed by a glass ceiling. All that he truly respects in the world lie just beyond the glass. True leaders realize that their destiny lies just beyond their reach - on the other side of this glass. Real leaders will do whatever they can, whatever it takes to break through. That is where I used to be different. That is why I felt I didn't belong. I didn't believe that I had the ability to break the glass. This is a stigma that has haunted me through most of my life. A mind built firmly on intelligence motivation and ideas with a heart haunted by tragedy, disbelief and bitterness. After years of battling myself and denying my abilities to communicate, I have come to an epiphany that will undoubtedly alter the course of my life. This is the fact that I was solely responsible for the creation of my own glass ceiling.

After a conversation with the most intelligent man I have ever met, it has become apparent that I am responsible for every shred of bitterness I have felt. I am responsible for manifesting these feelings and using them as the shackles that have held me back from becoming what I truly am. Over a cup of coffee this man simply stated: 'I have found the reason for living. Whether you consider yourself a religious man or not, this still holds bearing. It is my understanding that one's true mission in life is to create a better environment for the next generation to prosper ' to make a better world than what we were brought into'� How can you say you are even willing to create a better environment when you carry such bitterness ' such resentment toward everything around you?'� For once in my life I had no answer. I just listened intently as this man voiced everything I've ever needed to hear.

'I used to be just like you. I used to downright loathe those people who had it easier than I did. Why is this water to wet? Why is this heat too hot? I couldn't stand these people'� I moved here from Iran as a 17 year old not knowing ANYTHING, and these people had the audacity to complain to ME about the difficulties of life. That was when I truly found out what hate was, and I knew I hated myself just as much as I hated all of them. You hate everything, and you can undoubtedly express why you feel validated in doing so. You need to let these go before you can truly understand the most important thing in this world ' that is simply that ALL people have a purpose in this life. Once you let these things go, you will be able to truly see what it is that you are here to do. Just looking at you, and the emotion in those eyes I can see exactly what it is you are here for. You are here, just like I am, to change this world for the better. This is so that those after you will not have to go through the things you did. But before you can begin to help the world, you have to admit those tragedies you went through, so that the world around you truly knows who you are.'�


After this conversation, I couldn't sit still. I just had to walk. I had to go somewhere no one knew who I was and I could just be alone. Without any idea of where I was going, I got in my vehicle and drove. I drove to escape them all. I burned down the highway trying to escape my fears. Little did I know that this ride would take me back to the beginning; back to the very source of my bitterness and hatred toward society.

My feet bounced off the cold Minneapolis concrete with a quick beat that only served to intensify my search for nothingness. This midnight scavenger hunt into the sections of my metropolis that are only heard about in obituaries and page 2 of local newspapers could hardly be considered safe. All along the way I couldn't help but ponder the stereotypical outcomes that most would consider. Robbery, beatings, death ' these are all things that could face anyone walking the empty streets, especially in this environment at this time of night. I didn't care much for this sort of rationale. With only lines of streetlights and lit cigarette embers as my light source, I continued my search without fear. If I was to die this night, it would only end the tragedy and bitterness that has haunted me. But what common thinking failed to recognize was the key to my venture's safety. I was once considered to be one of 'them'�.

My walk was littered with memories. The drunken and incoherent blurbs from bums trying to stay warm on park benches took me back to the days where we were not much different. Nights filled with drinking to numb my body in hopes of attaining a decent rest. In the midst of a tangent, the old man paused. We made eye contact that would usually follow a request for change or food. If he wanted money or a spare smoke, I would've given it to him. I would've given him my own jacket if he had asked. This wasn't out of fear; it was simply out of respect. However, this man made no such request. Our eyes locked on each other, we exchanged souls and stories without uttering a word. He began to speak and then paused before offering me familiar advice: 'Gotta stay warm kid. There's a covered bus stop up the road.'� He motioned down the street. I responded with a thank you and gave him the rest of my open pack of squares. I told him I was just killing time. He then asked if I wanted to shoot dice. I declined then continued my journey down the soft yellow-lit street. I had never met this man in my life. He knew me and I knew him simply because of the saddened look of a dying fire that our eyes both shared. Continuing down the street toward the crack stacks I knew that bum and I were in fact one and the same.


I hopped the bus and provide the adequate change for a non transfer toll. I missed the city bus. More importantly, I missed the late night route. These were the routes spent trying to sell weed and blow to various drunken commuters in hopes of scoring enough money to get drunk. The bus was littered with only a few undesirables. Most notable of which was myself. From behind the glass I watched the city lights blur and fast forward just like they have in my mind. The memories sliced through my mind and reopened the scars that my comfortable new life has hidden from the rest of the world. As the scar ripped open and I could feel the bloody times of a scared homeless man cover my soul. A single tear from passing down my face as a familiar whisper snapped me out of my trance.

'Hey man, you get high?'� I turned briefly and was greeted by the sneaky disposition of a young teenager dressed in oversized clothes. His eyes darted around the bus while trying not to blow his cover. In an attempt to aid his attempts, I stayed looking straight forward. Unlike the prior meeting with the bum at the bus stop, we never made eye contact throughout the entire exchange. I couldn't but help to think that some things never change. 'Naw man, I'm straight.'� I responded passively while glancing back out the window. His voice seemed to come from my head as though he was only a voice my past.

While continuing, he seemed upset. 'What, you don't trust a nigger's shit? Or you think you're honkey ass is too good to buy from a nigger that's scrapping?'� The comment only added fuel to my search. I was immediately brought back to my discussion at the coffeehouse as Maridi's voice echoed in my mind: 'But before you can begin to help the world, you have to admit those tragedies you went through, so that the world around you truly knows who you are.'� I had to show him who I was. It wasn't an issue of safety, it was an issue of respect. 'Naw man, I'm just straight'�'� I began while rolling up the sleeve on my hooded sweatshirt. The bus slowly began to approach its next stop located just down the street. I lifted my arm into his view so that he could see the potholes and scars left years ago from my prior drug use. 'I'm no better dog'� I'm just full right now'�'�

We slowly came to a stop outside the crack stacks. In uttering his parting comment I could tell this dealer's voice to be a mix of realization and shock. 'Damn dog'� I guess so'�'� The bus doors opened and I departed to my last stop. I had to keep my sleeve rolled up. It seemed as if I had to leave them in clear view for no one else but me. It has been so long since I dealt with my holes that I had built such a wall around them. I can never forget that they are (and always will be) a part of who I was. Even more importantly they are a memory attesting to who I will become.

From my perch above the city, I became fully reacquainted with its true demeanor. Two words came to mind - hollow and cold. It felt just as it did when I left four short years ago. The steam from my breath was mixed with warm air and the smoke from my lungs. I stayed here until the morning while reliving every night spent sleeping in alleys and drinking my pain away. These were the times that allowed my bitterness and hatred to fester in my body. Back then black eyes and broken fingers were the fashion. They represented the physical manifestations of my belief that hope was non existent. I couldn't help but think about how far I have come since spending nights with those I considered my brothers and sisters. Tears began to flow much more consistently. I stopped trying to hold them back while reaching for my pocket knife.

Depression wasn't the reason for my next move. I just needed to feel it again ' the pain of a life that I had spent the past four years hiding from. Just as it was four years ago, my arm bled the only warmth I could feel during a cold December night. I watched as the blood dripped from my palm. I squeezed my hand into a fist as the blood quickened. Even if I wanted to, I would not have been able to stop it. I didn't. Looking out over the environment that instilled such hatred in my soul, I let my consciousness to my surroundings dissipate. The city blurred into one mass of unfocused lights and outlines as I let my soul truly take over my body for the first time. Tears and blood flowed simultaneously. With my bleeding fist clenched and raised high for everyone to witness, I allowed my soul to take back what it had lost. The anthems of my life rang throughout my body as I finally admitted what I had hid for almost five years. I am, and always was home.

That precise moment in time allowed me to feel what I had been missing. I could feel pain; I could feel fear and sadness. Most importantly, I could finally feel love. I could feel every tear aid in shattering the glass ceiling I had created. I deserved to feel. Bitterness and hatred because of the tragedies I lived through was not what was intended for me. This experience was to motivate me. That night, oh that cold night spent in those same areas you are too afraid to dwell ' those are the areas that I call home. This is where I am from, and that is why I must in fact on not only its behalf; but the behalf of everyone who has ever felt this pain. They are my brothers. They are my sisters.

Those who hear of my family during news broadcasts and read about them on the second page of the local newspaper are not to be hated. They are to be educated. They need to hear the voices of the thousands that have gone silent for generations. I now understand why I am here, why I graduated college, and why I continue to pursue education in the communication field. This is because I have the voice, the motivation, and an ability to change the world.

The glass ceiling has shattered. Fitting enough, as I was the one who created it ' I was the one who destroyed it. This action put me in charge of my own destiny. I am no longer guided by the rest of the world, their needs nor their wants. I am guided by a force much greater than anything that can be bought or sold. These are the forces of things such as pain, such as love, such as experiences that no one else in the world should ever have to endure. I have finally realized that I am, and always will be a leader. It is my responsibility to create a better world. It is my duty because it is what I have always wanted.

As you have read my confession of a prior life, I must request you all look around with the same eye of freedom I have been given back. Freedom from your doubts and insecurities, freedom from the things the rest of the world cherishes, and tells you to hold dear. In doing so you will see a world based on the foundations of what someone else wants, what someone else desires, and what someone else has prescribed for you. If you do not, you will continue to abide by the insecurities that have been subconsciously implanted into your brain from the second you came into the world.

This being said, I have decided that I will take back this city. I have also found that there are more of those just like me. They share my ideas and my goals for this city. WE will make a change, because it is what we are here to do. You will never see us, but you will know of our presence. You will see change because we will help you to open your eyes, and see the world for what it truly is. Together, we will fight to create the better world future generations need. A world based on education, a world based on feeling and choice. We will do this, and I will show you how.

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