I’m not the type to just drift wherever life’s current decides to drag me. Nah. That’s for the ones who gave up, the ones who stopped kicking, the ones who let the world carry them without a fight. You ever see a fish floating down a river belly-up? Yeah — it’s dead. And that’s exactly how I see it when someone tells me they “just go with the flow.” I told my boy the other day, “Only dead fish go with the flow.” He laughed, but he knew I meant it.
Life’s got this way of trying to pull you under, keep you in the same place, or push you into waters you don’t belong in. The current is strong, but so am I. I’ve been swimming upstream my whole damn life — against poverty, against addiction, against every bad hand I’ve been dealt. And I’m still here. Still kicking. Still breathing. Still moving against the current.
I remember one time — and trust me, there’ve been a lot — when life tried to pull me under for good. It wasn’t some Hollywood moment with dramatic music and a rescue boat. It was real life. Bills stacked like bricks on my chest, people I loved turning their backs, and the streets whispering my name like they missed me. That’s the thing about the current — it’ll disguise itself as comfort. It’ll make you think, Just stop fighting. Just let go. Just float.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Because I’ve seen what happens when you stop swimming — your eyes go dull, your dreams sink to the bottom, and you’re just another body carried away. So I kicked harder. I pushed against everything telling me to quit. Every stroke hurt, every breath burned, but I kept moving upstream.
That day, I didn’t just survive the current. I learned to spit in its face.
