I remember the first time I read 'Coldest Winter Ever' and I could not get enough of Midnight! I thought he was so interesting and I was so intrigued by his words, his mystique, his everything. I think I was around 17 when someone gifted me the book 'The Coldest Winter Ever'. You cannot tell me nothing about that man. So I'm about to enjoy ALL 600 pages about him. Since the beginning of August, I've read about 10+ books. I've mentioned it over and over again, but I've been checking out alot of books by African-based authors (I know Sister Souljah is not African-based). One thing I've noticed is that, sometimes the beginning is a little rough to get through every time. It's like I have to settle in and expand my mind but once I do... The book changes my life. And then I'm sad because I don't want it to end. Then on to the next one. I love reading my books with my oat milk and chai tea after finishing my school work. I can read for the whole day if a book is good enough. A few books that I've checked out, I've finished in one day or in one sitting. I think they give me a break from my own thoughts, my own life, my own trauma. It's like being invited into someone else's world respectfully. I can step back from what I'm going through and step into someone else's world. It's really refreshing and I'm so grateful for books. I would have nightmares about the movie Fahrenheit 451 when I first saw it because I'd die if I didn't have books. They're my savior. They helped me get through my childhood. It was an escape from my father coming into my room. One of the few compliments that I received from my father was that he always said I was "dedicated". Not necessarily smart, but dedicated enough to sit there and get shit fucking done. No matter how hard something is, I get it done. No matter how sick I am, I study hard. No matter what goes on in my life, if I have a task in front of me, it's getting done. No excuses. I still kindly admire how I got into Princeton a few months after my last psych ward stay. It was hard but I graduated, then I got into a program at Columbia University. I never stop, I keep going. I'm not sure what exactly my dad meant when my dad said "dedicated", because I haven't really dedicated my life to anything substantial yet. But I just have this feeling that I must get things done and apply myself. I've always been like that. I definitely think that originates from wanting my parents to love me. "If I get all A's in all my classes, maybe they'd see me" Now I've been on the dean's list for like 3 years straight, every single semester. I really don't know why I'm like that, because when I talk to most of my peers they don't even care about their grades. So why do I? I think it's to prove to myself that I can do it. I am so much more than what people say about me. More than what people have done to me. More than schizophrenia.
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