How

Difficult it is to feel obligated to mourn someone you don't know but is your blood.

I do not shed a tear for his leaving this overcrowded piece of dirt. I am not sad that he died, but sad that I didn't know him, didn't get the opportunity to pick his brain. That I wasn't aggressive enough, that I didn't pick up the phone just to talk.

I was afraid of being rejected or appearing like a fool. He knew who I was- he's gotten pictures and short letters. I've gotten birthday cards or notes. But he didnt know me as I didnt know him and Time passed us by.

Work ya hustle Garvin-Sloan