The Wire’ actor Michael K. Williams found dead in NYC apartment

HellBoy

Black Cam Girls -> BlackCamZ.Com
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Michael K. Williams — who portrayed notorious stickup man Omar Little on “The Wire” — was found dead of a suspected heroin overdose in his Brooklyn penthouse Monday afternoon, law enforcement sources told The Post.

Williams, 54, was discovered face-down and unresponsive in the dining room of his luxury Williamsburg pad with what appeared to be heroin on the kitchen table, sources said.

A relative of the Emmy-winning actor talked to him Friday, and Williams was supposed to show up to an event Saturday but never made it, sources said.

The relative went to Williams’ home Monday, and someone called cops to the address at 440 Kent Ave. just before 2 p.m., saying there was a man there who was “unresponsive’’ and “feels cold,’’ sources said.
 

woodchuck

A crowd pleasing man.
OG Investor
Somebody on death row, is not partying and having a good time right before his execution. It is the same phenomenon in an indirect way.
This is why I never understood the last meal thing. If I'm about to catch a hotshot, I don't think I'd be in the mood to eat anything!
 

slam

aka * My Name Is Not $lam *
Super Moderator
maaan Wendell has such an adept way of laying shit down


they had some dope scenes together ..

i`m trying to find the one after ol girl got shot in streets ...

that was raw ...u can tell bunk was pissed ...n he blamed omar for death ..

shit what season was tht ...?


EDIT ...found it ...Youtube has everything ..lol








classic fucking scene bro ...:bravo:
 

mangobob79

Rising Star
BGOL Investor
I think Covid was too much for him. Anything can trigger a relapse . I remember listening to him on Sway in the morning and he was saying 9/11 caused him to start using again. Covid probably the same shit. Covid even had me feeling fucked up during that year lock down
yeah man the depression kicked in for alot of folks especially in east coat n NYC where shit was crazy, i can bet he knew alot of cats & their parents out here in bK who suffered and passed , thats why whne ppl start taking this covi shit for granted i get irate bruh ! i knew folks whose depression got worse and some who passed not even the covid patients r victims alone, nMike was a real king outhere in BK , a real loveable brother , so u know he felt the pain from & for alot of pppl
 

mangobob79

Rising Star
BGOL Investor
they had some dope scenes together ..

i`m trying to find the one after ol girl got shot in streets ...

that was raw ...u can tell bunk was pissed ...n he blamed omar for death ..

shit what season was tht ...?
u remember the tv show he gave a speech during a roundtable about slavery & murderous white american culture ?
 

parisian

International
International Member
that brother was in pain


1-008-1601692496.jpg


WHEN MICHAEL K. WILLIAMS was growing up in East Flatbush, Brooklyn, during the ‘70s and ‘80s, the advice he was given was “get out.

“Why?” Williams asks over a Zoom call in September. “Why is it that for everyone from my community, everything we’re told to do, is to get out? Get an education to get a good job and get out. Become entertainers. Become a rapper, make a lot of money, and get your mama out. Dribble that ball so you can get the whole family out. Well, where the fuck are we going? Where are we going? Where am I going?”

How Williams “got out” was Hollywood. In the late 80s, still living in Flatbush, Williams found work as a backup dancer. In 1996, Tupac Shakur stumbled across a Polaroid of Williams and became instrumental in getting him cast in his first movie, Bullet, where Williams played a henchman alongside Mickey Rourke.

Then came HBO and Ed Burns, a writer on a series called The Wire. In 2001, Burns cast Williams on the show as a shotgun-wielding Robin Hood, Omar Little. It was Williams’s breakout role. His part, despite being written for just one season, lasted all five.

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Williams as Albert "Chalky" White on HBO's Boardwalk Empire.


He’d go on to play a gangster in HBO’s Boardwalk Empire from 2010 to 2014. Two years later, he played an inmate in the miniseries The Night Of, a story about a young man arrested for a murder and later sent to Rikers. For much of 2020, he’s been starring in another show for HBO: Lovecraft Country, a horror series that takes place in the racist depths of America in the 1950s. Williams plays the brash Montrose Freeman, father to the show's protagonist, Atticus (Jonathan Majors).

The roles have taken a toll on him, Williams says. During The Wire, Williams, who had gotten sober in his 20s, turned to cocaine. He got clean after The Wire, but he would relapse and abuse substances off and on throughout the next decade.

But HBO’s Lovecraft Country struck a note no other filming experience has thus far, he says. Its explicit focus on racial trauma—on Black Americans enduring continued racial violence in the '50s, some of whom were attacked during the 1921 Tulsa Massacre—dramatically changed things for Williams.

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Williams playing Freddy Knight in HBO's The Night Of, a role for which he'd later earn an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Supporting Actor.


The visceral nature of that project and its historical connection to his own family “awoke generational trauma.” “Lovecraft just kicked the door off the hinges,” he says.

After he returned home to Brooklyn from filming in Atlanta last winter, he relapsed once more. He immediately sought out Narcotics Anonymous meetings. This year, for the first time, he also tried therapy. And now, he’s gained an even greater perspective on who he is, what he’s experienced, and where he—and the entertainment industry—ought to be headed.

Michael, how are you?

Hey, I woke up late. I had a long night last night, and [now] I'm dining at my little Brooklyn sushi spot … Full transparency: I fucking forgot [about the interview]. I’m sorry. [laughing]

I’m just glad to have you here! How have you been since lockdown?

Like everyone else, I was in limbo. I was finding myself, though. I decided to use this time to sit down, be still, and to reassess who I am as a man, and to connect with family. My mom’s 93 and this job keeps me away from her a lot.

It’s hard to talk about this year and New York City and this summer without talking about the events of May 25th and George Floyd.

Before George, I was actually kind of in a good space. And then that happened. I went numb. I was working on putting together this deck for a non-scripted docuseries called The Aftermath that will go and look at the families of the people who had loved ones [who] were murdered by the hands of the police. To find out: How do they pick up the pieces? How do they move on? I went into the studio to record these lines the day after George Floyd. There were five of us in the studio. Three of us were Black men, two of us were white men, and we all had wet eyes. We were all crying.

Was there ever a moment in your life where you realized things might be different for you than someone growing up, say, across the [East River]—someone who looks different from you?

I was a grown man. I was in my 20s. And I had become a dancer. I was in rooms with different walks of life. Young people, Black and white from New York City. We would go out for lunch after rehearsal. And they would be like: “Oh yeah, you know, so my dad’s gonna, like, lend me the car for the weekend.” And I was like, “You have one of those?” They said, “What a car?” I said, “No, a dad? And he lives in the house? And he gives you the car? Like, I don’t understand.”

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Williams as Omar Little on HBO's The Wire.


When I was around 12 or 13, the ice started to really crack in the foundation of my family structure. My dad relocated back to the South. There was a lot of trauma I was left to deal with in his absence. You know, it was hard for [a] Black woman raising a Black boy in an aggressively violent neighborhood. That was not easy to navigate through alone. But my mom is so stable, so grounded, such a foundation. She created such a foundation for me in the middle of the jungle. But there were certain things that I normalized, the violence, and the murder. And how much [police] criminalize adolescent behavior.

My issues went another way and that took me down the road of chronic abuse. I can’t say I came out of the neighborhood unscathed. You're either using or selling. I was a user.

How did the using begin?

Pain. In a word, a lot of pain. A lot of trauma early on that I didn’t have the proper tools to deal with. My mom was very strict. The beatings were very severe growing up. She was determined to not have her two sons run amok. She had a brother who passed. He was a fighter and went to jail for murdering someone with his bare hands. It was a way of protecting me. It wasn’t an easy childhood, being sensitive, vulnerable. I’m not alpha, in any sense the word of the title. And so I got picked on a lot.

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On his 25th birthday, Williams and two friends were jumped outside a bar in Queens. The resultant scar lead casting agents to pick Williams for intimidating roles.


It plagued me, especially [during] my teenage years. It was one of the things that led me to attempt suicide. I was 17. I was lost. I was very awkward with the ladies. Drugs were there. And I was already self-medicating. And I just got lost. I just remember feeling like, “Eh, maybe the world will be better off without me.” And I took a bottle of pills, woke up to my stomach being pumped.


"That show woke up a lot of demons. A lot. It cut me really close to the bone."


Your relationship with your father, your experiences as a young man—you’re very open to talking about these things. What’s helped you look back on them in this way?

A lot of therapy. I didn't realize that therapy work was so important to my work as an actor until Lovecraft. The aha moment for me was: These stories are waking up generational trauma. These things that I use to breathe life into these characters are very real for me, and a lot of them are still unresolved.

I just figured, you know, when the director yells “cut!” or “that’s a wrap!” it goes away. I thought it all dissipates. And that was not the case.

Can I ask what happened?

You don't really see it coming. You're thinking you’re just going out for a drink with some friends. You don’t set off to have a relapse. At least I don’t. I think I’m fine when I relapse.


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Williams as Montrose Freeman with Lovecraft Country co-stars Jurnee Smollett and Jonathan Majors.


That show woke up a lot of demons. A lot. It cut me really close to the bone. I have family members one generation removed from me who were sharecroppers—who were alive during Jim Crow. I got trauma passed down.

You know, as people of color in Hollywood, entertainment, a lot of times we don’t pay attention to the fact that we sell trauma. Some of our most wanting work is rooted—most of the time—in pain and trauma.

I know Hollywood is now employing intimacy coordinators when shooting sex scenes. Do you think maybe they should start hiring racial trauma coordinators?

Woah! It’s funny you should say that. I just had this conversation with my co-worker Jurnee Smollett. She said, "I think that we should have a retreat before we go into second season and discuss all the things that we’re feeling—good, bad and ugly.”

The first time I actually ever saw anything resembling what you just said was with my sister Ava DuVernay on the set of When They See Us. She had grief counselors on set the entire run of the filming production. I think that—especially for people of color, especially right now going back into the workforce—should definitely be something on the table for discussion moving forward.

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Williams as Bobby McCray in Netflix's When They See Us, alongside co-star Caleel Harris.


You’ve said that meeting Obama on the campaign trail in 2008 really changed the way you saw yourself—and your role in your community. What did he say to you?

I just didn’t feel worthy of meeting this man, and I was starting to cower behind my cousin. He’s going through my family: “Hello, nice to meet you. Hello ...” And then one of my cousins says, “Um, Mr. Senator, I understand that you said The Wire was your favorite show.” He goes: “That’s correct.” And she said, “And you said Omar was your favorite character?” He goes: “Yes, that’s correct.” And she goes, “Well Mr. Williams is...” [And Obama goes:] “WHERE OMAR AT?? THAT’S MY MAN! MY MAN WITH THE CODES!” And then he just grabs me, and he gives me a hug. As my mother called it: the “homeboy hug.” And he just talked to me like a regular person.

When he said that The Wire was his favorite show and that Omar was his favorite character, I was like, holy shit, this man who’s running for president of the United States watches something like The Wire? It was the first time I felt seen. I was like, wait a minute. I need to earn this. My personal life needs to match the responsibility that comes with being recognized by a man of this caliber.

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"It was the first time I felt seen," Williams says of meeting Barack Obama in 2008. "I was like, wait a minute. I need to earn this."


One of the things I’ve been doing back in my community is instilling pride. [Ed note: He’s also founded and works alongside several nonprofits that focus on everything from helping underserved kids achieve success to improving local youth and police relationships and stopping gun violence.] By me showing up and walking around, I let them know that I still care about this community, that they still matter to me.

I spent a lot of my younger years not feeling beautiful. When I look back at my pictures now as a kid, I’m like, “Damn, you were actually beautiful.” I couldn’t see it back then. That’s a large thing that makes me go back to working with the youth in my community. I let them know that they’re beautiful.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
 

godofwine

Supreme Porn Poster - Ret
BGOL Investor

The story that he tells at 1:45 where an angel and a devil is sitting on your shoulder.

He said that it scared him so bad that he had that kind of evil in him that he ran out of the house it did say anything to anyone.

I had a similar moment.

My father was like Mister. M.I.S.T.E.R. Period, from the Color Purple. One of the reasons I can't watch that movie today.

I tell people my father was like a combination of Ike Turner and Hitler. Oppressing the mind and spirit. He beat my mother, he beat my brother and I. He used my sister as his personal snitch.

I once saw him throw my mother down the stairs, run behind her as she tumbled, and punch her in the mouth bottom of the stairs knocking out her front tooth

Seeing that a child has an effect on you. You know it's wrong, but unbeknownst to you a part of it becomes normal. Acceptable in a way.

It lies dormant in some, and is more visible in others.

Just at the high school in 1995 I was dating a girl named Ryan O'Bryant. She was light skin and gorgeous. Red bone.

Normally I am Team Dark Skin but with this girl she was just, wow.

We were standing on the second floor at the two family house Ryan thought that she could say something to me and she thought... well I don't know what the fuck she thought.

What I do know is she would never think that shit again.

There were about seven of us on that porch.

Ryan leaned against the railing and told me, "That's why I'm pregnant. AND IT AIN'T YOURS."

I don't know what damn fool thought goes into a woman's head to say something like that to a man. I don't know what she was thinking.

I don't know what I was thinking.

The next thing I know I am having an out-of-body moment where I am looking at myself from the outside.

Like a panther I crossed a 6-foot spans of ground in a flash that would make that big cat proud.

I grabbed Ryan by the neck and lifted her bodily in the air. Her feet dangled a good foot off the floor. Her feet kicked like joyous child as they enjoyed an ice cream.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I heard myself growl.

Her arms flailed, and her hands feebly tried to grab me, but I was unaffected.

Her friends were frozen in place. I heard gasps behind me but I heard no words. The look of unadulterated Terror in her eyes was palpable.

I looked her in the eye...and threw her off the balcony

I heard the screams behind me. Someone said, "Oh my God," as Ryan fell in slow motion.

The way she fell it was like when the Ancient One pushed Bruce Banner from the body of the Hulk.

She fell backward into the day not knowing if there would be more days for her. Realizing far too late I wasn't the man to say such a thing to.

For minutes it seemed I watched her fall as a ln evil mask covered my face.

I heard the screams and I just stood there watching her fall into Oblivion.

Her calves hit the balcony sending them flying into the air and at the last possible moment I grabbed them.

I reached out and grabbed Ryan by her ankles with one arm.

I was 18 and nowhere near as strong as I am now. Where I summoned the strength to do this I have no idea.

I held Ryan by the ankles with one arm and pointed at her with the other. I screamed and barked at her and I couldn't tell you if you paid me $1000000 what I said to her.

She wore the same horrified look as Hans Gruber.

Like in the movie The Dark Knight, her friends yelled, "Let her go," the same way Batman did when The Joker held Rachel.

Poor choice of words, indeed.

I pointed at her with my left hand, pointed in their face and barked words I do not remember.

Her friends grabbed and clawed at the clothes on my back and my neck but I was completely unbothered by the movements of those sheep. I was a wolf and I had the Sheep I wanted in my grasp.

Then I came to my senses.

I pulled her up. I pulled her up and I ran from the house, down the stairs the same way Michael K. Williams said he did with his situation.

I ran down the street toward E. 116th street.

A #50 bus was coming going Southbound toward my home and I ran for it, chasing it down.

I paid my fare, went to the back of the bus and stood on the back stairs.

Most city buses have a mirror by The Back Stairs.

I told you before that I witnessed my father beat my mother on numerous occasions. When I was a child there is no greater horror then for me to be compared to my father in any way.

I hated that man.

I've looked into the mirror above the back stairs... and I saw my father's face instead of my own. I don't know how it was possible, what witchcraft, but I saw my father's face instead of my own standing there on the back of the bus.

All the air I thought I owned escaped my lungs and I collapsed on the floor of the RTA bus and I bawled in such a manner and fashion that one would assume someone died.

But someone did die.

I died.

I was replaced by one of the most vile human beings I'd ever met.

M.I.S.T.E.R period.

I wasn't sobbing, and I wasn't quiet. I cried so loudly as if I was being attacked, and I was. I was being attacked by the realization that I had become my father.

That I had become what I'd hated.

I felt crushed like an aluminum can being stepped on. I couldn't find my breath, and I cried reaching out for that breath. Every time I will get a hold of it it would leave me again, drained.

I reached out for that breath Again and again and again and again and again the entire 20-minute ride home and every time the breath of slipped from between my grass leaving me shriveled reaching for it again and again and again.

I didn't even realize the bus had reached it's Final Destination. The end of the line

I wailed hard for well over 20 minutes reminiscent of John Coffey in the Green Mile when he found those blonde headed girls.

I felt an arm up on my shoulder and felt someone sit next to me. They put their arm around me and gently squeezed and I fell into their shoulder, still crying.

Tears streamed down my face, they continued to fall, and they drenched the shoulder of this person. I didn't know who it was, I didn't care.

"I'm turning into my dad. I'm turning into my dad," I said.

She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me, cooing softly that it was going to be alright, but I wasn't hearing any of it and my wailing continued.

She clutched me tighter, as if I was hers rather some stranger on a city bus crying for reasons she didn't know.

I had never been held so tightly.

After minutes, it could have been 3, or 10. We sat there with our arms around each other until I began to feel comforted enough and I let go.

She used her hands and her sleeves to wipe away my tears as if I was her child.

We stood, she walked me to the front of the bus. She asked where I lived, I told her just around the corner and she offered to drive me.

We stopped at my house, the fifth house from the corner, and she parked the bus, stood and hugged me again. A good 30 second hug.

She told me everything would be alright and that I should pray on it.

I got off the bus , waved at her and headed inside.

I never saw that woman again. A part of me I wondered whether she was even real or a figment of my imagination. Whether she was an angel that God placed on this Earth to help me in my deepest moment of need.

I have never hit a woman sets. I've never raised my hand to a woman at all in any way since then.

I also refuse to date volatile women who are destructive, you know the type. Any woman with that nasty attitude that make you want to hit them to correct their shity attitude and actions.

Seeing my father's face in the mirror that day saved my life. I could have been like him, probably would have been like him had it not been for that one incident and that terrified me.

I understand exactly where Michael K. Williams was talking about with a situation.

May he rest in peace
 
Last edited:

mangobob79

Rising Star
BGOL Investor
The story that he tells at 1:45 where an angel and a devil is sitting on your shoulder.

He said that it scared him so bad that he had that kind of evil in him that he ran out of the house it did say anything to anyone.

I had a similar moment.

My father was like Mister. M.I.S.T.E.R. Period, from the Color Purple. One of the reasons I can't watch that movie today.

I tell people my father was like a combination of Ike Turner and Hitler. Oppressing the mind and spirit. He beat my mother, he beat my brother and I. He used my sister as his personal snitch.

I once saw him throw my mother down the stairs, run behind her as she tumbled, and punch her in the mouth bottom of the stairs knocking out her front tooth

Seeing that a child has an effect on you. You know it's wrong, but unbeknownst to you a part of it becomes normal. Acceptable in a way.

It lies dormant in some, and is more visible in others.

Just at the high school in 1995 I was dating a girl named Ryan O'Bryant. He was light skin and gorgeous. Red bone.

Normally I am Team Dark Skin but with this girl she was just, wow.

We were standing on the second floor at the two family house Ryan thought that she could say something to me and she thought... well I don't know what the fuck she thought.

What I do know is she would never think that shit again.

There were about seven of us on that porch.

Ryan leaned against the railing and told me, "That's why I'm pregnant. AND IT AIN'T YOURS."

I don't know what damn fool thought goes into a woman's head to say something like that to a man. I don't know what she was thinking.

I don't know what I was thinking.

The next thing I know I am having an out-of-body moment where I am looking at myself from the outside.

Like a panther I crossed a 6-foot spans of ground in a flash that would make that big cat proud.

I grabbed Ryan by the neck and lifted her bodily in the air. Her feet dangled a good foot off the floor. Her feet kicked like joyous child as they enjoyed an ice cream.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I heard myself growl.

Her arms flailed, and her hands feebly tried to grab me, but I was unaffected.

Her friends were frozen in place. I heard gasps behind me but I heard no words. The look of unadulterated Terror in her eyes was palpable.

I looked her in the eye...and threw her off the balcony

I heard the screams behind me. Someone said, "Oh my God," as Ryan fell in slow motion.

The way she fell it was like when the Ancient One pushed Bruce Banner from the body of the Hulk.

She fell backward into the day not knowing if there would be more days for her. Realizing far too late I wasn't the man to say such a thing to.

For minutes it seemed I watched her fall as a ln evil mask covered my face.

I heard the screams and I just stood there watching her fall into Oblivion.

Her calves hit the balcony sending them flying into the air and at the last possible moment I grabbed them.

I reached out and grabbed Ryan by her ankles with one arm.

I was 18 and nowhere near as strong as I am now. Where I summoned the strength to do this I have no idea.

I held Ryan by the ankles with one arm and pointed at her with the other. I screamed and barked at her and I couldn't tell you if you paid me $1000000 what I said to her.

She wore the same horrified look as Hans Gruber.

Like in the movie The Dark Knight, her friends yelled, "Let her go," the same way Batman did when The Joker held Rachel.

Poor choice of words, indeed.

I pointed at her with my left hand, pointed in their face and barked words I do not remember.

Her friends grabbed and clawed at the clothes on my back and my neck but I was completely unbothered by the movements of those sheep. I was a wolf and I had the Sheep I wanted in my grasp.

Then I came to my senses.

I pulled her up. I pulled her up and I ran from the house, down the stairs the same way Michael K. Williams said he did with his situation.

I ran down the street toward E. 116th street.

A #50 bus was coming going Southbound toward my home and I ran for it, chasing it down.

I paid my fare, went to the back of the bus and stood on the back stairs.

Most city buses have a mirror by The Back Stairs.

I told you before that I witnessed my father beat my mother on numerous occasions. When I was a child there is no greater horror then for me to be compared to my father in any way.

I hated that man.

I've looked into the mirror above the back stairs... and I saw my father's face instead of my own. I don't know how it was possible, what witchcraft, but I saw my father's face instead of my own standing there on the back of the bus.

All the air I thought I owned escaped my lungs and I collapsed on the floor of the RTA bus and I bawled in such a manner and fashion that one would assume someone died.

But someone did die.

I died.

I was replaced by one of the most vile human beings I'd ever met.

M.I.S.T.E.R period.

I wasn't sobbing, and I wasn't quiet. I cried so loudly as if I was being attacked, and I was. I was being attacked by the realization that I had become my father.

That I had become what I'd hated.

I felt crushed like an aluminum can being stepped on. I couldn't find my breath, and I cried reaching out for that breath. Every time I will get a hold of it it would leave me again, drained.

I reached out for that breath Again and again and again and again and again the entire 20-minute ride home and every time the breath of slipped from between my grass leaving me shriveled reaching for it again and again and again.

I didn't even realize the bus had reached it's Final Destination. The end of the line

I wailed hard for well over 20 minutes reminiscent of John Coffey in the Green Mile when he found those blonde headed girls.

I felt an arm up on my shoulder and felt someone sit next to me. They put their arm around me and gently squeezed and I fell into their shoulder, still crying.

Tears streamed down my face, they continued to fall, and they drenched the shoulder of this person. I didn't know who it was, I didn't care.

"I'm turning into my dad. I'm turning into my dad," I said.

She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me, cooing softly that it was going to be alright, but I wasn't hearing any of it and my wailing continued.

She clutched me tighter, as if I was hers rather some stranger on a city bus crying for reasons she didn't know.

I had never been held so tightly.

After minutes, it could have been 3, or 10. We sat there with our arms around each other until I began to feel comforted enough and I let go.

She used her hands and her sleeves to wipe away my tears as if I was her child.

We stood, she walked me to the front of the bus. She asked where I lived, I told her just around the corner and she offered to drive me.

We stopped at my house, the fifth house from the corner, and she parked the bus, stood and hugged me again. A good 30 second hug.

She told me everything would be alright and that I should pray on it.

I got off the bus , waved at her and headed inside.

I never saw that woman again. A part of me I wondered whether she was even real or a figment of my imagination. Whether she was an angel that God placed on this Earth to help me in my deepest moment of need.

I have never hit a woman sets. I've never raised my hand to a woman at all in any way since then.

I also refuse to date volatile women who are destructive, you know the type. Any woman with that nasty attitude that make you want to hit them to correct their shity attitude and actions.

Seen my father's face in the mirror that day saved my life. I could have been like him, probably would have been like him had it not been for that one incident and that terrified me.

I understand exactly where Michael K. Williams was talking about with a situation.

May he rest in peace

STICKY THIS @godofwine RESPONSE MODS!!!!
wow brother! thats some real spill u just dropped there, not to lie , ive learned that too ,to never be drawn to women who feel they need a man to put them in their place becos theyre gonna pull it out of you and for me ,ive always felt it wont go well, i just cant do it ! i gladly humbly bow out , i know what lies within and the thought of unleashing that unto another human over EGO just isnt me .give me a boring cooperative cute chick and im fine...
 

Supersav

Rising Star
Registered
The story that he tells at 1:45 where an angel and a devil is sitting on your shoulder.

He said that it scared him so bad that he had that kind of evil in him that he ran out of the house it did say anything to anyone.

I had a similar moment.

My father was like Mister. M.I.S.T.E.R. Period, from the Color Purple. One of the reasons I can't watch that movie today.

I tell people my father was like a combination of Ike Turner and Hitler. Oppressing the mind and spirit. He beat my mother, he beat my brother and I. He used my sister as his personal snitch.

I once saw him throw my mother down the stairs, run behind her as she tumbled, and punch her in the mouth bottom of the stairs knocking out her front tooth

Seeing that a child has an effect on you. You know it's wrong, but unbeknownst to you a part of it becomes normal. Acceptable in a way.

It lies dormant in some, and is more visible in others.

Just at the high school in 1995 I was dating a girl named Ryan O'Bryant. He was light skin and gorgeous. Red bone.

Normally I am Team Dark Skin but with this girl she was just, wow.

We were standing on the second floor at the two family house Ryan thought that she could say something to me and she thought... well I don't know what the fuck she thought.

What I do know is she would never think that shit again.

There were about seven of us on that porch.

Ryan leaned against the railing and told me, "That's why I'm pregnant. AND IT AIN'T YOURS."

I don't know what damn fool thought goes into a woman's head to say something like that to a man. I don't know what she was thinking.

I don't know what I was thinking.

The next thing I know I am having an out-of-body moment where I am looking at myself from the outside.

Like a panther I crossed a 6-foot spans of ground in a flash that would make that big cat proud.

I grabbed Ryan by the neck and lifted her bodily in the air. Her feet dangled a good foot off the floor. Her feet kicked like joyous child as they enjoyed an ice cream.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I heard myself growl.

Her arms flailed, and her hands feebly tried to grab me, but I was unaffected.

Her friends were frozen in place. I heard gasps behind me but I heard no words. The look of unadulterated Terror in her eyes was palpable.

I looked her in the eye...and threw her off the balcony

I heard the screams behind me. Someone said, "Oh my God," as Ryan fell in slow motion.

The way she fell it was like when the Ancient One pushed Bruce Banner from the body of the Hulk.

She fell backward into the day not knowing if there would be more days for her. Realizing far too late I wasn't the man to say such a thing to.

For minutes it seemed I watched her fall as a ln evil mask covered my face.

I heard the screams and I just stood there watching her fall into Oblivion.

Her calves hit the balcony sending them flying into the air and at the last possible moment I grabbed them.

I reached out and grabbed Ryan by her ankles with one arm.

I was 18 and nowhere near as strong as I am now. Where I summoned the strength to do this I have no idea.

I held Ryan by the ankles with one arm and pointed at her with the other. I screamed and barked at her and I couldn't tell you if you paid me $1000000 what I said to her.

She wore the same horrified look as Hans Gruber.

Like in the movie The Dark Knight, her friends yelled, "Let her go," the same way Batman did when The Joker held Rachel.

Poor choice of words, indeed.

I pointed at her with my left hand, pointed in their face and barked words I do not remember.

Her friends grabbed and clawed at the clothes on my back and my neck but I was completely unbothered by the movements of those sheep. I was a wolf and I had the Sheep I wanted in my grasp.

Then I came to my senses.

I pulled her up. I pulled her up and I ran from the house, down the stairs the same way Michael K. Williams said he did with his situation.

I ran down the street toward E. 116th street.

A #50 bus was coming going Southbound toward my home and I ran for it, chasing it down.

I paid my fare, went to the back of the bus and stood on the back stairs.

Most city buses have a mirror by The Back Stairs.

I told you before that I witnessed my father beat my mother on numerous occasions. When I was a child there is no greater horror then for me to be compared to my father in any way.

I hated that man.

I've looked into the mirror above the back stairs... and I saw my father's face instead of my own. I don't know how it was possible, what witchcraft, but I saw my father's face instead of my own standing there on the back of the bus.

All the air I thought I owned escaped my lungs and I collapsed on the floor of the RTA bus and I bawled in such a manner and fashion that one would assume someone died.

But someone did die.

I died.

I was replaced by one of the most vile human beings I'd ever met.

M.I.S.T.E.R period.

I wasn't sobbing, and I wasn't quiet. I cried so loudly as if I was being attacked, and I was. I was being attacked by the realization that I had become my father.

That I had become what I'd hated.

I felt crushed like an aluminum can being stepped on. I couldn't find my breath, and I cried reaching out for that breath. Every time I will get a hold of it it would leave me again, drained.

I reached out for that breath Again and again and again and again and again the entire 20-minute ride home and every time the breath of slipped from between my grass leaving me shriveled reaching for it again and again and again.

I didn't even realize the bus had reached it's Final Destination. The end of the line

I wailed hard for well over 20 minutes reminiscent of John Coffey in the Green Mile when he found those blonde headed girls.

I felt an arm up on my shoulder and felt someone sit next to me. They put their arm around me and gently squeezed and I fell into their shoulder, still crying.

Tears streamed down my face, they continued to fall, and they drenched the shoulder of this person. I didn't know who it was, I didn't care.

"I'm turning into my dad. I'm turning into my dad," I said.

She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me, cooing softly that it was going to be alright, but I wasn't hearing any of it and my wailing continued.

She clutched me tighter, as if I was hers rather some stranger on a city bus crying for reasons she didn't know.

I had never been held so tightly.

After minutes, it could have been 3, or 10. We sat there with our arms around each other until I began to feel comforted enough and I let go.

She used her hands and her sleeves to wipe away my tears as if I was her child.

We stood, she walked me to the front of the bus. She asked where I lived, I told her just around the corner and she offered to drive me.

We stopped at my house, the fifth house from the corner, and she parked the bus, stood and hugged me again. A good 30 second hug.

She told me everything would be alright and that I should pray on it.

I got off the bus , waved at her and headed inside.

I never saw that woman again. A part of me I wondered whether she was even real or a figment of my imagination. Whether she was an angel that God placed on this Earth to help me in my deepest moment of need.

I have never hit a woman sets. I've never raised my hand to a woman at all in any way since then.

I also refuse to date volatile women who are destructive, you know the type. Any woman with that nasty attitude that make you want to hit them to correct their shity attitude and actions.

Seen my father's face in the mirror that day saved my life. I could have been like him, probably would have been like him had it not been for that one incident and that terrified me.

I understand exactly where Michael K. Williams was talking about with a situation.

May he rest in peace
You fucking abuser
 
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