I remember the feeling of waiting backstage in the theater room, reciting my lyrics and being submerged in the backtrack of my song. You couldn’t grab my attention even if the building was on fire. I was fully immersed between the rhythms, kick, snare, and ad-libbed verses that continuously played through my Apple ear buds. Whenever I took a break, I joined in with the other students and friends of mine, who were collaborating rather than practicing. Thеy expressed facеs of preparedness and passion, more than they’d ever done the whole academic year. While they snapped, I rapped; I freestyled. And while I rapped, they sang a chorus. Eventually this collaboration turned into what felt like an opener for a platinum artist who was about to come on stage. Later that night, when it was my turn to perform at the talent show, I sweated like a faucet left running. My hands felt stiff and my fingers tightened, I likely had high blood pressure. Either way, my nerves were about to get the best of me. Before I got on stage, I took one last sip of water out of my bottle and nodded to the stage manager, as he said to me “Go kill it”. The curtains opened and familiar faces, along with family members of strangers, were contributing to the lively atmosphere. As soon as the beat dropped, my mouth immediately went dry, just like it did in my audition a few days prior. Surprisingly, though, all the jitters went away when a heat blanket glided over my body. I didn’t mess up a single lyric, and confidently got through the first verse and chorus. Midway through my performance, I became so confident and so bold, that I thought I would take things a step further. The previous year I walked off stage for about twenty seconds at most. But in my second talent show performance I walked off the stage to mass approval and went through the audience up the aisle. When I got to the bridge of the song, I would rap a line and then hold my mic out to the audience. In rehearsals earlier that day, I came up with a dramatic sequence with the director of the show. After I did enough crowd interaction, I carried out the plan to walk out the auditorium with no explanation once I rapped the final line. The walked out and the spotlight like followed me went black. The walls were vibrating, and I leaned up against the door with pride and relief. The shakes returned for a moment, but then I let it go again. There was nothing but a wavering feeling. I couldn’t believe I pulled that off. I then went back inside the auditorium, grabbed a seat, and watched the rest of the show. And as the next performer went on stage, I became the stranger that added to the vibe in the room. The people beside me on the shoulder and my friends dapped me up.

I remember the day I got the news of my Uncle's passing. I was having a regular day, I was careless, and I was at home enjoying some free time. I laid in my bed worrying about things that didn't matter like social media. I opened the Instagram app and checked how many likes I got on my previous post. I exited the app. And then opened it again as if I had short term memory loss. But then my mom got a phone call. I think my dad had called me at least 15-18 times before giving up. She was in her room and had the phone on speaker. My dad's voice sounded weak, wearily and writhing. I hadn't heard him sound that way since his only sister's passing. So, by this time, knew something was wrong. And I instantly teared up a bit, assuming the worst. When he finally gathered himself, and barely at that, all that I heard was "Jimmy died". That phrase synched in. And I couldn't unhear it. My body felt emptied out the way a town is evacuated during hurricane season. Still technically very young, I felt nothing but anger towards life, and especially towards God. At that point, I started to question things. It made my attitude raw and my view obstructed. When we reached the hospital, I was angry at the fact I couldn't see him right away. Me and my brother, and a few other family members stayed with my grandma, who thought her son was there for checkups, yet to be given the news. But when they finally told her, it created a pain I can't describe for her. Eventually I got to see my Uncle, as he laid there on the operating table. His distinctive partially grown afro was greying, and his eyes closed shut. He didn't move. When I held his hand, it was cold. It was this strange feeling. I didn't recognize him. The entire time I was waiting for him to get up from the table and tell us it's a prank. Because he was always emitting his warmth to the family, and not second went by without his comedy, his laughter, his jokes, his positive energy. It hit me like a Tyson uppercut. He wasn't waking up and I realized this. So, I sat down on the maroon colored chair beside him, with nothing left to feel before letting out my cries and clinging onto him. And in the remaining moments my aunt caressed his head, quiet but uncollected. My dad, although lifeless inside, sprinkled what positive energy he could onto us. And told me and my cousin what his brother would've wanted.

I remember the 16-hour ride to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I was on an orchestra trip and we had finally loaded the instruments onto the charter bus. When everyone was settled in, our orchestra conductor took role of who was and wasn’t with us. For some reason, it took another 20 minutes before the driver even departed, let alone started up the bus. In that time, everyone was in their own world’s, talking to their squads. The squad of 4 I was in chatted about what they would do when they got to the hotel and what they would do in the park. They had everything mapped out. The bus finally left the school. We joked around and caused so much ruckus. As freshman, we really acted like 10-year-olds. It didn’t take long before I lost my phone. I had to make my way through the bus near my area to see where I may have forgotten it. I figured out I wasted my time when I went back to my seat and found it laying there. Despite the noise we made, nothing was more painful than listening to the Chorus kids do sing-a-longs most of the ride. Justin Bieber’s “Baby” and Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA” were apparently of popular demand by the chaperones. In some seats further down, students played a very competitive game of uno, it seemed like it was life or death for how they argued about whether you could stack a +2 on a +4. In the very back, in the seats in front of the tiny restroom, a student Sergio was talking loudly to his girlfriend that was assigned in a seat further down. We couldn’t sit co-ed, it had to be boy-boy, girl-girl, in two seats on each side the bus. Meanwhile, in the tiny restroom was Simon, getting knocked around unwillingly because of the side to side swaying of the moving bus. Once he exited the restroom, he broke the door handle, leaving it temporarily inaccessible for the seemingly remainder of the trip. We stopped three times during the whole trip, the first time my dad was following the bus in his car. He was a chaperone, but not a chaperone: he was assigned a group, and given instructions, yet somehow, he was told he couldn’t do it. When we were at the gas station, he bought me some snacks because he only gave me $100. That money wouldn’t have lasted if I had spent it already. Part of the class was throwing jabs at Simon for breaking the restroom door handle. It was all fun and games. The second stop was a repeat of the first and the third was at at a corner spot with a McDonald's, Subway, Bojangles and other fast food joints. Once everyone we got back on the bus, everyone gradually fell asleep and before we knew it, it was morning and were at the resort hotel.

I remember when I drowned. I was 9 years old and didn't know how to swim. I went to Water Country in Williamsburg with my friend DeChaun. He was an adrenaline junkie and seemed like he could breathe underwater. He was eager to try everything, and I followed him. But eventually we went into the lazy river. The only difference was that there was no swim ring. You had to swim freely in the lazy river, but before you could get to that point, there were these rapids. They shot out water at a rapid pace, causing the water to force you down the river/water. I got dragged in and panicked. I felt like my time was coming because the lifeguards at their stations weren't paying attention. Luckily, my dad was able jump in, and lift me up near the edge of the river long enough for someone to help. My brother, who was also there and was drowning, made it when my dad got him out the river and completely on the concrete. I was saved shortly after. DeChaun was ways down the river already. Afterwards, the lifeguards had surprised Pikachu faces when my dad complained about how they don't watch. One lifeguard admitted she was on her phone. The experience was traumatizing, and I've only ever went swimming once when I was 13, choking on some water thinking I was confident. Still don't know how to swim, and I avoid anything that involves deep water. I'm boring now.

I remember my graduation ceremony. It was a conflicting moment. I was ready to graduate high school and get out of there, but when the time finally approached, I could already feel the regrets of chances I didn't take and the missing the place I made so many memories. We graduated in the EagleBank Arena and it felt like being in a stadium. Since my last name is Carter, my moment was over. Over like the warriors blowing a 3-1 lead in the playoffs.